


Anagram

by kelleigh (girlfromcarolina)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jensen, Bottom Tahmoh, Confessions, Developing Relationship, Emotions, Explicit Sexual Content, Gyms, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, M/M, Polyamory, Supernatural and J2 Big Bang Challenge 2015, Swim Coach, Switching, Threesome - M/M/M, Top Jared, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Voyeurism, no infidelity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-10
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:05:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlfromcarolina/pseuds/kelleigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared Padalecki and Jensen Ackles met in college, two English majors who eventually became inseparable. Their friendship led them to accept teaching positions at the same private high school. Nothing could come between them until Jared—unable to come to terms with his own bisexuality—decided to set Jensen up on a blind date with his handsome gym-buddy Tahmoh Penikett, a former Olympic swimmer turned coach. Through falling in love, pulling away, and more than their fair share of sexual tension, the three men need to figure out a way to coexist together before their individual relationships crumble for good. Like an anagram puzzle, there might just be more than one way to fix this unexpected love triangle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anagram

**Author's Note:**

> **Written for the 2015 Supernatural J2 Big Bang**.
> 
> You might be looking at the pairing and asking 'What was she thinking?" but I would beg you to reconsider. At it's core, this is a story about how Jared and Jensen move from friendship into something more, with the help of Tahmoh who loves them both. I have never personally been in a three-way relationship, so I am in no way trying to pass myself off as an expert - I merely went where the story told me to go. You all know, in my heart, **I LOVE J2** , and nothing could ever take its place. Just think of this as a side-trip with Tahmoh added in for fun. Let's call it a **J2 + BONUS** story, okay? If you like J2-Happily Ever After stories and wouldn't mind a third hot guy in the mix without taking away from the EPICNESS that is J2, this story is for you.
> 
> Again, I have no history with polyamorous relationsips. THIS IS MY OWN INTERPRETATION.

**TITLE.** Anagram  
**AUTHOR.** Kelleigh  
**ARTIST.** YanYann  
**GENRE.** RPS AU  
**PAIRING.** Jensen Ackles/Jared Padalecki/Tahmoh Penikett. Jensen/Tahmoh.  
**RATING.** NC17  
**WORDS.** 42000  
**WARNINGS.** Explicit Sex. Threesome Sex. Voyeurism. UST. Eventual three-way relationship. Bisexual character [Jared]. Other pairings include Jensen/Other [past] and Jared/Jensen [imagined].

### PART ONE

"Would you like to start a tab, sir?"

"Just the one drink, actually,” Jensen says as he reaches for his wallet. I'm waiting for someone."

The bartender squints through titanium-framed lenses, tilting the card until he can read the raised letters. 

"Sure thing, Mr. Paddle-Padaleek?"

Jensen smirks. "Padalecki. I know it's a tough one."

Jensen’s drink sits just out of reach, held for ransom until he pays. As the receipt is printing, the bartender adds a bright maraschino to the pale gold liquid—a final indignity—before setting the concoction in front of Jensen. 

The credit card and receipt are returned in a smooth, black folio. 

“Do you want to see a menu while you’re waiting?” 

“No thanks.” Jensen wouldn’t be able to focus on it anyway. The bartender steps away to serve someone else, leaving Jensen to stew in his thoughts. The drink helps a little, sweet and sour sliding down his throat. 

He tips two dollars on a single drink—the guy deserves it for not laughing when Jensen placed his order. The card goes back in his wallet, in the slot he reserves for Jared’s card whenever his best friend hands it over to pay for lunch. Jared _deserves_ to be buying Jensen’s alcohol tonight anyway; the whole blind date thing was his idea (and it’s not Jensen’s fault that Jared forgot to ask for his card back this afternoon).

Blind dates. That’s what he’s been reduced to. Although, Jensen supposes, he hasn’t been working all that hard at finding dates for himself, and it was either sign up for an online service (for every success story he hears, there are two cautionary tales to go along with it), or let his best friend of twelve years set him up.

Jared must know _someone_ dateable besides Jensen, right?

“Please tell me you’re Jensen.”

Surprised by his own name (fucking _smooth_ , Jensen…), he turns and faces the owner of the pleasant, slightly-accented voice. Jensen’s even more surprised by the rush of attraction that rolls over him at the man’s appearance. There’s a faint shadow of reddish-brown stubble across the impressive cut of his jaw and around his full, pale pink mouth. His hair is darker than Jensen’s, cut short around his temples with neatly trimmed sideburns. Jared could get some serious pointers from this guy for his own out-of-control side-chops (an endless source of amusement for Jensen). He’s taller than Jensen by an inch, maybe two, and built more like Jared—broad in the shoulders, but with more impressive biceps, and a narrow waist.

Jensen finally nods. The guy doesn’t look embarrassed at all despite Jensen's thorough perusal. He stands confidently in dark jeans and an even darker collared shirt half covered by his leather jacket, and his pale blue eyes are wide, almost disbelieving, while he takes in Jensen's appearance, looking like he can't believe his good luck.

“How’d you guess?” Jensen asks, happy to have made an impression already.

“Jared told me you’d be drinking an amaretto sour. He said to look for the drink with a cherry in it,” he says, a friendly smirk taking shape in the corner of his mouth. “I’m Tahmoh, your blind date.”

Tahmoh offers his hand. His grip is warm and pleasant. “Hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“Actually I just got my drink.”

Tahmoh takes the stool next to Jensen. “I can’t say I’ve ever tried an amaretto sour. Must be good if you're drinking one."

"Most people think they're too sweet," he says, smirking. Playing it cool hasn't served him well in the past. He wants Tahmoh to know that he likes what he sees so far. 

"I've got a bit of a sweet tooth," Tahmoh admits. "That's actually how I met Jared. I don't know how much he told you, but we work out at the same gym."

Explains their matching physiques, Jensen thinks. Must be a damn good gym.

"One night I saw him pull candy out of his bag."

Jensen grins. "Sour snakes?"

Tahmoh's laugh is warm and mellow. "He saw me looking and offered me some. Couldn't say no."

"Doesn't look like eating candy has hurt you at all," Jensen says.

"I appreciate that. Guess it helps that I spend three hours in the pool every day."

A swimmer. Jensen suddenly feels like jumping up and cheering. He's saved by the petite hostess tapping him on the shoulder and letting him know that she has a table for them. 

After settling into their comfortable yet fairly intimate booth, the next ten minutes are spent casually discussing the menu and drinks (Tahmoh decides against the amaretto sour and asks for a pear cider the waitress recommends), and ordering. Jensen already feels comfortable—if Tahmoh and Jared get along, he ought to be a decent guy. No one is pickier than Jared when it comes to building friendships. 

"You're a swimmer?" Jensen asks while they wait for their entrees.

"Jared really didn't tell you anything about me, did he?"

"I guess he wanted me to be surprised," Jensen muses. "You seem to have gotten a few advance details."

"All good things, I promise. Jared likes to brag about you." 

Jensen's curious about that, but he files it away for later discussion. "So you probably know that I teach at Hallgrove with Jared."

"That's a pretty fancy school."

"With fancy classes. Jared teaches Modern Lit and I teach the Classics—everything from Homer to Edgar Allen Poe."

Tahmoh leans back, mouth pursed in a silent whistle. "No wonder you two are such good friends."

They're friends _now_ , but they'd clashed like rival Dons when they met in college. Jensen's disdain for Modern Lit fans hadn't mixed well with Jared's puppy-like attempts to get Jensen to attend seminars and readings with him. They pulled their heads out of their asses eventually and remained close ever since. And he does mean close. Shared an apartment during Jensen’s senior year and again when they attended the same grad school. Now they're both at Hallgrove through a serendipitous series of circumstances. Platonically M.F.E.O., in other words, though there was a time when Jensen imagined they could be more.

"What kind of job lets you spend that much time swimming?" 

"The kind where swimming _is_ the job. I'm the head coach at Calhoun High School."

"Wow, nice. They've got one of the best programs in the state. I remember Alaina—our coach at Hallgrove—telling me Calhoun only hires Olympic athletes as their..."

Jensen's cheeks begin to burn as the reality hits. Tahmoh's quirked brow and unassuming grin tell Jensen he's guessed correctly. 

"Holy shit, you swam in the Olympics? I am going to _murder_ Jared." Embarrassed, Jensen pulls out his phone to send his best friend a scathing text overflowing with angry emojis. "I can't believe he thought I wouldn't want to at least know that my blind date was an Olympian."

Tahmoh reaches out and plucks the phone from Jensen's palm granting Jared a temporary reprieve. "A _Canadian_ Olympic swimmer. Important distinction."

Canadian, huh. Explains the enticing hints of an accent.

"Did you win a medal?" Jensen asks dryly.

"Just the one in Athens." When Jensen groans, Tahmoh adds, "But hey! It was only a bronze."

Jensen needs to get his phone back. He tries to steal it back from Tahmoh's hand, but his date plays a mean game of keep-away. His attitude ebbs away from annoyance the longer Tahmoh withholds his phone, tip of his tongue just visible between his teeth when he smiles across the table. It's been a while since flirting came this naturally to Jensen, especially on a first date.

"Don't blame Jared."

Jensen disagrees. "Nope, he's dead next time I see him."

"I forgive him on your behalf for not telling you about me."

"That's not the way it works."

Tahmoh relinquishes the phone. "Well I'm glad he didn't, because the way you're blushing right now is unbelievably hot."

Instead of ripping off an angry text, Jensen slips his phone into his pocket after fumbling the damn thing. He's about to respond (with something both incredibly witty _and_ sexy, of course) when their waiter interrupts, two plates in her hands. 

Jensen takes a long sip of ice water hoping it'll chill the fiery heat in his cheeks. Jensen likes guys who are upfront; lies and games aren't his thing. His heart still bears the bruises from his last major relationship. Never again will Jensen date a guy who can't be honest about who he is and what he wants.

Tahmoh certainly isn't hiding the fact that he finds Jensen attractive, and if this were any of Jensen's other dates over the past few years, he'd already be imagining the inevitable hook up at the end of the night. However, Jensen meant it when he told Jared that he was unhappy with single life; he’s ready to meet someone who wants to savor the whole story, chapter by chapter, instead of jumping to the end. 

Conversation is tougher to manage while they eat some delicious Mediterranean food. Jensen fails to tamp down on his fascination with Tahmoh's competitive history, but the guy doesn't seem bothered. Tahmoh cracks jokes about swimming's place in Canadian sports—"Saying you're a great swimmer from Canada is like saying you're a great ice hockey player from Costa Rica"—and fills Jensen in on the path that led him to coaching. 

"It's only been eleven years since I swam in the Olympics, but I swear the kids I'm coaching are faster," Tahmoh claims. "The pace of competitive swimming right now is ridiculous. If I was trying to qualify these days? Forget it."

When Tahmoh asks Jensen to guess his specialty, he thinks for less than a minute before taking a shot. 

"At first I was going to say long distance. You look like you're built for endurance." Jensen's feeling the effects of the amaretto now. He's okay with being upfront, too. "But I'm actually going to guess...the backstroke."

Tahmoh grins. "How'd you guess?"

"With your height and those shoulders? It's a little obvious."

"Fair enough," Tahmoh says, not at all put-out that Jensen guessed so easily. 

As payback for leaving him completely in the dark, Jensen shares a few Jared-centric stories from college. Tahmoh listens and laughs, promises to hang onto a few of the details in case he needs blackmail material in the future. 

Jensen's not ready for the bill when it comes. Tahmoh grabs it before he can react. 

"It's only fair," he assures, slipping a credit card inside the folio. "I knew what I was walking into tonight."

"I'd say it turned out okay."

There's a large part of Jensen that doesn't want the date to end. Tahmoh is polite and charming without being stuffy. From his stories about traveling with the Canadian Olympic contingent, he clearly knows how to have a good time. He's had a remarkable life, done things that few people ever get to experience; he piques Jensen's interest, something that's been missing from his most recent first dates.

And that’s before Jensen figures in his attraction. Everyone's a little shallow when meeting for the first time, but Tahmoh doesn’t leave him wanting. His body's been pulled straight out of Jensen's private fantasies: pillow-soft eyes Jensen imagines waking up to, warm expressions, and a voice Jensen wants to record reading his favorite plays and novels so he can listen to its cadence whenever he wants. 

As luck has it, they both parked in the city garage half a block away, giving Jensen extra time to debate his next move. They reach Tahmoh's spotless black Camaro first. (Jensen is doubly glad he parked on the second floor; he hasn't taken his late model Lexus to the car wash in well over two months.) 

Tahmoh speaks first. "As much as I want to invite you back to my place—"

Jensen sighs. "Let me guess, you have an early morning?"

"Practice at six a.m.," Tahmoh admits with a grimace. Jensen winces in sympathy. "But I don't care about that. I'd happily give up sleep for you."

That might be one of the most romantic things anyone's ever said to him, if only because Jensen treasures sleep.

"I don't want this to be a one-night thing. I want to see you again, Jensen."

The way Tahmoh says his name is like the brush of a feather, careful and teasing. Jensen feels compelled to kiss him, and it's everything a first kiss should be. Tentative but full of meaning, light yet intense. Jensen's lips barely put any pressure on Tahmoh's, but it's enough to feel their texture. To test the give and hold. To imagine more.

He drags one hand down Tahmoh's side, curls it into his shirt above his waist. It's been so long since Jensen took the time to enjoy the basics like this. He's nervous (because who doesn't want a first kiss to be perfect?) but when he leans away, Tahmoh looks less than composed. A pleasant little shiver runs through Jensen's body. 

"You're gonna go home and Google me, aren't you?"

Jensen's laugh effectively breaks the heated atmosphere. Good thing, as the sight of Tahmoh's slightly pink lips has Jensen dying for another taste. 

"Is that a problem?"

Tahmoh shakes his head. "Be sure to look up the 2004 Canadian Olympic trials."

"Was that a good race?"

"Something like that," Tahmoh teases. "I promise you won't be disappointed."

"I can always Google it from your place," Jensen offers. "Or mine."

"I figured it'd be classier not to bring you home with me after the first date," Tahmoh admits, slowly and with longing. "Especially after Jared blindsided you."

Yeah, Jared's going to pay for that later. Even if he did choose extremely well. 

After switching phones to exchange names and numbers, not to mention enjoying one last kiss, Jensen leaves Tahmoh at his car. The urge to glance back is strong. As is his willingness to abandon the notion of waiting. 'Classy' can be overrated, right? But the further he walks, the more settled Jensen feels. The entire date was like something pulled from a screenplay—cute and perfect. Being with Tahmoh felt good in a way Jensen wasn't expecting. The ease of Tahmoh's company underscored by the serious mutual attraction made for an experience Jensen is eager to repeat.

As he drives home, knowing he won’t be able to wait three days before calling Tahmoh, Jensen remembers that he promised to call Jared as soon as the date was over. Jensen groans and briefly considers lying to his best friend. For his own sanity, of course, because he figures Jared’s going to be insufferable.

**~~~~~**

Jensen takes his iPad to bed with him and types _Tahmoh Penikett_ into the search bar, using his phone to make sure he's spelling the last name correctly. He scans Tahmoh's Wikipedia page, eyes flicking over all kinds of details that hadn't made it into their dinner conversation, such as the fact that he was the first Canadian swimmer of aboriginal descent to medal at an Olympic Games. (Again, Jensen thinks about the verbal beat-down waiting for Jared tomorrow.) It's tempting to veer off into Image Search, but Jensen clicks on a YouTube link instead.

The first video is a compilation of Tahmoh's Olympic moments set to a Black Keys song. It's amazing to watch Tahmoh's technique in the pool, the effortless way he cuts through the water, but Jensen's on the hunt for something specific. He narrows the search and chooses the most popular video. So popular, it has ten times the number of hits as Tahmoh's other features. Not to mention the provocative title.

_Canadian Champion Reveals ALL!_

Tahmoh was right; Jensen isn't disappointed. The race itself is amazing—watching Tahmoh whip through the water on his way to winning the 100-meter backstroke is insanely hot—but it's what happens after the race that's responsible for the astronomical number of hits.

"Holy shit," Jensen groans aloud as a younger version of Tahmoh steps up for his post-race interview. Whether it's the adrenaline of winning or simply fatigue, Tahmoh hasn't noticed that his full-leg suit has slipped lower around his hips. And by low, he means pornographically low. Jensen thought that was impossible given how tight those suits were, but there’s a _generous_ piece of evidence staring him in the face.

The reporter is red in the face and making a point to keep her eyes up. Jensen looks and looks and looks, Tahmoh's bare, still-heaving chest filling his screen. Yeah, he definitely has a thing for swimmers' bodies. Jensen didn't come out of his room for an entire week during the London Olympics. 

But Tahmoh is something else. Jensen’s already learned that the humor in his eyes runs deep, knows that his heart is strong and kind. And Jensen is clearly in trouble with this guy because he's thinking about things like Tahmoh's eyes and his patience when he should be looking at his wet shoulders and swim-carved abs. 

Video or not, Jensen refuses to jerk off to a guy he just met. He clicks through more clips (after bookmarking the interview for a night when he's not feeling so classy) and news articles, matches the stories to what Tahmoh told him at dinner, and does his best to ignore the flutter in his chest. 

He goes to bed tired, satisfied, and without calling Jared. If his best friend wants details, he's going to have to wait.

**~~~~~**

“You slept with him?”

“What? No.” Jensen hoists his bag onto his shoulder. “Why would you think that?”

“You never called me,” Jared says. They’re crossing the parking lot after school on the way to their cars. “I just assumed.”

“It was a first date—”

“You always hook up on first dates,” Jared reminds him dryly.

“Because I’m usually the one convincing the guy to put out when I know it’s not going anywhere. That way we at least get something for our effort.”

“You and Tahmoh hit it off, then.”

Jensen woke up that morning to a text from Tahmoh. Something about being awake early enough to see the sunrise and the downside to being classy. The message had Jensen grinning into his pillow.

“You don’t have to answer that,” Jared says, “the sappiness is written all over your face.” They reach his car first; Jensen’s Lexus is two rows back amongst the students' cars from running so late that morning. Jared tosses his bag—the same buttery leather case Jensen bought him when he finished his first year of grad school—in the passenger seat. “What were you doing last night that made it impossible to call me?”

“Well since you never told me anything about Tahmoh, I googled him. I found some YouTube vids from the Olympics.”

“Oh my god, did you see that one interview?” Jared laughs. “He couldn’t keep his suit on!”

“You watched that?”

“Obviously. That video had a crazy number of hits.” Jared explains that he was curious when he first met Tahmoh and wanted to check out his career. “I thought he was joking at first, but he’s seriously impressive.”

“I see why you like working out with him.” When Jared fails to react, Jensen adds, “Because he’s crazy athletic, right?”

“Oh yeah, right.” He clears his throat. “Are you going out with him again?”

“Hopefully. I think we both had a good time.” A gust of wind whips between them. Jensen forgot his coat at home when he rushed out the door and now he’s freezing. “Maybe you can join us sometime.”

Jared’s brow creases. “On your date?”

Jensen knocks Jared’s shoulder. “To hang out, man.” He’s curious about their friendship anyway; Jensen learned years ago that it was next to impossible to date a guy with whom Jared didn’t get along. Not liking Jared is a legitimate character flaw.

Finally noticing Jensen’s shivering, Jared says, “Get the hell out of here, Jen. I can’t believe you didn’t bring your jacket. Responsible adult, my ass.”

“Says the guy who wanted fro-yo for lunch,” Jensen mutters as he turns around.

“Shut up! It was just a craving. Hey,” he calls out, “text me if you want to catch up on Mad Men later.”

Jensen acknowledges with a wave, double-timing it to his Lexus to escape the unexpectedly chilly afternoon.

**~~~~~**

After forty-eight hours of Jensen’s crush growing every time Tahmoh texts him, they find a time to see one another again.

The plan is to meet Tahmoh at Jensen's favorite bar, but after their staff meeting at Hallgrove runs long, Jensen decides to bring Jared along with him.

Seeing Tahmoh again infuses Jensen with good energy. Hanging out with Jared is usually enough to rally Jensen's spirits, but sitting between Jared and Tahmoh is uplifting.

Outside of physical builds, their personalities are markedly different. Where Jared wears his heart on his sleeve, Tahmoh reacts subtly; Jared tells the jokes, but Tahmoh always laughs in support. And where Jared can find a friend in a total stranger (like he had with Tahmoh), Tahmoh seems content to devote his attention to Jensen. Which is helpful since Jensen isn't particularly interested in sharing him. 

As the beer works its magic, Jensen lets go of his stress and enjoys being with his best friend and his new crush.

Tahmoh is taking Jared to task—with a healthy dose of humor—for leaving Jensen in the dark before their blind date.

"You should be thanking me," Jared insists. "It worked out exactly how I thought it would."

Jensen sputters. "Sure, you just knew." He glances to his right. Shares a soft smile with Tahmoh. 

"What? I mean, Moh's a swimmer”—alcohol tends to bring out Jared's preference for nicknames—"and Jen's obviously got a thing for that."

Jensen's cheeks go hot. It would suck to die of mortification on their second date. 

"I appreciate athletic people," Jensen grumbles, "there's a difference."

Apparently Jared finds his grumpiness amusing. When he turns back to the bartender, Jensen feels a solid touch on his leg. Tahmoh's leaning close enough for Jensen to feel a rush of breath past his ear.

"I hope you have a _thing_ for swimmers," he whispers, low timbre immediately having an effect on Jensen. "Bet you know how to use it, too." Tahmoh's narrow, melt-worthy stare tells Jensen that Jared hasn't scared him off in the slightest. 

"Time to go," Jensen says, slapping Jared on the shoulder before he can order another round for the three of them.

"Already?" Jared takes in the flush on Jensen's face, eyes dropping to Tahmoh's hand on his thigh. "Whatever. Don’t break each other.”

Jensen is ready to haul Tahmoh out of his bar-chair. He drops two twenties on the bar to cover their tab and Jared's before following Tahmoh at a barely respectable distance until they're safely outside in the parking lot.

No beating around the bush tonight; Jensen runs the damn thing over.

"Please tell me you don't have practice in the morning."

His back hits the driver's side door of his newly-washed Lexus as Tahmoh crowds him, mouth parted and teasing Jensen with a non-kiss.

"I wouldn't tell you if I did." Then Tahmoh kisses the shock right out of his mouth. It's been two days but Jensen has missed Tahmoh's lips (another sure sign he's in trouble). Want surges within; Jensen responds with equal force, the cool spring night fading to nothing while his senses fight for their share of the kiss.

When Tahmoh's hand slides down to his lower back, Jensen suddenly remembers their surroundings. 

"My place is close," he says at the same time Tahmoh asks, "Can I follow you?"

Alone for the less than ten-minute drive, Jensen braces himself for the standard self-interrogation: his conscience berating him with what-ifs and second guesses that usually interfere with his one-night stands and mediocre dates.

But instead of the guilt and doubt that comes from questioning his own decisions—choosing meaningless sex when he doesn't see a future with his date—all he thinks about are the things he wants to do with Tahmoh when he gets home. (The list has doubled in length since the night of their blind date.) That and what he can cook for breakfast with what he's got in the kitchen. Tonight has meaning; Jensen wants Tahmoh there when he wakes up tomorrow. 

Jensen checks his mirrors; Tahmoh's car is still following. He smiles at his own reflection in the rearview, nerves and excitement building in tandem. 

"I've always liked this neighborhood," Tahmoh says when he steps out onto Jensen’s driveway. 

Jensen waits in the open garage. "I'm surprised Jared didn't tell you exactly where I lived, too." 

He goes to unlock the door, rumbling garage motor obscuring Tahmoh's steps. Suddenly Tahmoh's at Jensen's back, those extra inches of height bringing his mouth to Jensen's ear. 

"Cut Jared a break," he whispers, hands at Jensen's hips. His grip is just shy of possessive. "Nothing he told me could've prepared me for what I felt when I saw you sitting at the bar."

Jensen leads him straight to the bedroom. No passing go, no stopping in the kitchen for a fortifying drink. Up the stairs, past the pharmacy bag that hasn’t made it up to Jensen’s bathroom yet, and down the hallway until they’re knocking the bedroom door against the wall, no thoughts spared for the ominous clunk of wood against drywall. Jensen is focused on the rustle of fabric, shirts being shed in the dark, and kicking his shoes off without tripping. He blindly reaches out and slaps the wall until he hits the light switch.

What he gets is a revelation. Seeing clips of Tahmoh on YouTube was one thing, but the live view is even better. His chest is glorious in person—clearly he hasn’t let himself go in the years since his final Olympic performance. The differences between then and now are minor, and Jensen vows to catalog them all when he has the time. More importantly, when he has the patience. 

Tahmoh’s gaze has gone dark, shaded with greed. “Your turn,” he says, advancing on Jensen. His t-shirt doesn’t put up a fight against Tahmoh’s hands, discarded in what’s soon to be a pile of clothing. Only when Tahmoh’s eyes resume their slow caress of Jensen’s upper body does he remember that he doesn’t hit the gym like Tahmoh and Jared do. Sure, he runs around the neighborhood when the weather is decent (or there’s nothing decent on his DVR), but he’s not what anyone, let alone an Olympic fucking athlete, would call in-shape. Lately Jared’s been on his case about starting a routine, using every tactic he has to convince Jensen to join him at the gym. None of his arguments have stuck.

He has other methods of stress relief, okay?

Tahmoh either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. Though they remain standing, Jensen feels the magnetic pull of the bed, dim light throwing golden shadows. No words are spoken as they come together chest to chest, Jensen forced to tilt his chin up for the kiss: a sensation he’s slowly getting used to. He’s not a small guy—his partners tend to be the same height or shorter, but he never thought he showed a preference. Height doesn’t translate to dominance, fortunately, as Tahmoh melts against Jensen, mouth wide and supple. Jensen’s tongue traces his lips, presses into that welcoming heat.

A wisp of a thought tickles his mind. _Is this what kissing Jared would be like?_

He shakes it away before the question can bother him further. 

The pressure of their belts against one another becomes too much. Fingers fumble and tug until the heavy buckles drop, belts yanked free to join the pile. A picture forms in Jensen’s mind and he follows where it leads, turning Tahmoh until his back is pressed to Jensen’s chest. He could spend an entire night tracing every muscle, studying the curve of Tahmoh’s spine until the details are immortalized in his mind, but for now, he settles for spreading his palms around Tahmoh’s ribs. One hand slides north to curve below a well-formed pectoral; the other wanders south, painting a touch-picture of carved abdominals until he feels denim. 

Jensen is torn. He wants to stroke Tahmoh off right here, right now. But he also wants to savor their first night, find something mutually satisfying instead of playing dominoes with their orgasms. 

Tahmoh groans as Jensen’s fingers tease below his jeans. “As much as I want you to keep going, I don’t think I have the patience.”

“Is that so?” Jensen asks, welcoming another kiss when Tahmoh turns around. 

Mouth occupied, Jensen blindly unbuttons Tahmoh’s jeans, tickling the skin over his lethal hipbones with a fleeting touch. Impatience wins out; he shoves Tahmoh’s jeans down his thighs and pushes him back on the bed before dropping to his knees to finish yanking them off. He imagines for a moment what it would be like to stay here, get his mouth around the impressive bulge in Tahmoh’s dark gray briefs. Turn the fabric even darker with his spit as he works down around his sac and back up. His imaginings are cut short by Tahmoh’s hands on his shoulders, encouraging him to stand up.

The smirk on his face means he knows what Jensen was thinking. And approves.

Tahmoh reaches for Jensen’s pants and gives him the same treatment. Down to their underwear, they roll together on the bed, hands eager to take measure of naked skin. Tahmoh moves like he’s underwater—long, fluid motions that set Jensen on fire with friction. He’s so fucking strong, but instead of manhandling Jensen, Tahmoh uses his extra height and strength to hold himself over Jensen’s body, and there's a tang of sweat on his lips when he lowers his mouth to Jensen’s.

Jensen could kiss Tahmoh for the rest of the night and be satisfied. He’s quickly becoming addicted to the way Tahmoh’s tongue presses alongside his own, swimming in the heat of their mouths. It would be easy to drown in those sensations, but the rub of cotton over Jensen’s fully hard cock reminds him that there are other pleasures to address.

“I watched that interview you told me about,” Jensen says, hands testing the stretch of Tahmoh’s briefs.

“Yeah?” Tahmoh’s gaze warms with amusement. Keeping his torso lifted, he drops his hips to rub their erections together thru frustrating layers of fabric. “Like what you saw?”

“Kinda wishing I could see more.”

Jensen’s wish is granted quickly. Tahmoh strips his briefs with more coordination than Jensen would be able to muster at the moment, doing Jensen a favor and removing his as well.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Jensen moans, eyes drawn between their bodies to where their cocks press alongside one another. He’s surprised to see that his cock is longer, but Tahmoh’s definitely got him beat on width. Tahmoh’s dick would stretch his lips nicely, a wide flare for his tongue to run along.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Tahmoh praises, grinding their hips together. “All of you.”

Jensen burns hot at the approval, his body singing for Tahmoh’s touch. This is what he wants—mutual satisfaction for both of them. Tonight’s not about how far they can go, but how well they move together. Jensen doesn’t want a boyfriend with limited desires; he wants to explore, dig deep into unspoken cravings. He doesn’t want one sport; he wants the whole fucking Olympics.

Tahmoh asks for lube and Jensen grabs a new bottle from his bedside drawer. The addition of slick eases the friction, but ups the tempo of their thrusts. When Tahmoh shifts to move off Jensen, give him a turn on top, Jensen stops him.

“I’m good like this.” Jensen insists, and he really, really is.

Kissing breaks down to panting, sharing the same air as they attempt to watch the way their cocks slide together. With Tahmoh propped on top of him, it’s Jensen's hand slipping between their bodies to add more pressure, more heat. Focusing on Tahmoh’s cock, gauging the width with his fingers, flicking at the crown and delighting in the way Tahmoh shudders against him.

Tahmoh reaches the finish line first, gasping as his come hits Jensen’s stomach. Jensen eases his grip before Tahmoh becomes too sensitive, dragging his hand through Tahmoh’s come.

“You close?”

Jensen only nods, bringing his hand to his cock and using the extra slick to stroke himself.

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Tahmoh curses when he sees what Jensen’s doing. “How are you this hot? Stoke yourself a little faster, Jen. Yeah, like that…”

Following Tahmoh’s lead, it’s only a matter of seconds before Jensen’s adding to the mess on his skin. As soon as he does, Tahmoh rolls to the side, sparing Jensen the crush of his full weight.

They lie next to one another with matching grins on their faces. It’s easy to picture more nights like this, affection igniting passion. Jensen's excited to see where the relationship can go.

“Tell me we’re doing that again,” he says, nudging Tahmoh with his foot.

Tahmoh reaches for Jensen’s hand and brings it to his lips. Jensen rolls against him, tucking his face into Tahmoh’s shoulder to hide the blush.

“At least twice,” Tahmoh promises.

**~~~~~**

Turns out Tahmoh doesn’t have a morning practice, which is good because Jensen goes all-out with breakfast.

“You’re lucky I went grocery shopping a couple nights ago,” Jensen says, watching Tahmoh pick a K-cup from his coffee selection, “otherwise coffee is all you’d be getting.”

“I’d say I got a lot more than that.” Tahmoh sets the Keurig to brew and waits as if he hasn’t said something absurdly sweet and flirtatious. This way he won’t see the flush rise on Jensen’s cheeks either. He hates when anyone sees him blush—it’s always uneven and way too pink. Jared likes to tell him that it's adorable, which makes it worse. 

Tahmoh carries his French Roast and Jensen’s Hazelnut Mocha (which started as a gift from Jared, but he hasn’t stopped buying it since) around to the kitchen island while Jensen splits a loaded omelet between two plates. Along with the low-sodium bacon (that one comes from his Dad), it’s one hell of a decent-looking breakfast.

“If you always cook for your dates like this, I bet they never want to leave.”

Jensen knows what Tahmoh is fishing for. “The list of people I’ve cooked breakfast for is pretty short,” he admits, not missing Tahmoh’s long exhale. “There’s you and Jared, and that’s only because he tends to crash on my couch whenever he’s had too much to drink.”

“He’s told me a few stories. Sounds like he’s had some epic nights.”

“You don’t know the half of it.” 

Unfortunately, Jensen does. He’s nursed Jared through some particularly nasty hangovers, helped him put the pieces together whenever he wakes up with little to no memory of the night before. Those nights have gotten rarer, thank God, and Jared has never let it affect his job. Still, Jensen can’t help but worry when Jared’s restlessness gets the better of him.

Jensen has no intention of letting thoughts like that drag their morning down, so he changes the subject. “Do you have a practice tonight?” 

That leads to a run-down of everything Tahmoh has planned for his swimmers tonight. To Jensen, it sounds like full-out torture (three-count sit-ups? Seriously? Jensen would die), but Tahmoh is animated, talking about his team the way Jensen talks about his favorite students. His passion is evident, and a relief; Jensen wouldn’t be able to date anyone who chains himself to a job he hates.

“I should probably get going,” Tahmoh says once their plates are in the dishwasher. “Mind if I take a cup of coffee to go?”

“Two cups a day, huh?”

“Only when it’s been a long night. Long, but extremely satisfying,” Tahmoh teases, stealing a coffee-flavored kiss. “I might be pretty useless after practice unless I get some sleep. Feel like hanging out this weekend? Maybe a movie or something.”

Tentative plans are made on the way to the front door, Tahmoh's coffee poured into one of the travel mugs Jared's always leaving there. Jensen refuses to let Tahmoh leave without a reminder of what he’ll be missing. One more kiss is totally worth the rushed shower Jensen ends up taking.

**~~~~~**

“You cooked him breakfast?”

“I thought you said I wasn’t a bad cook.”

Jared back-tracks. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m just kinda surprised.”

A half-finished Greek salad sits in front of Jensen. No onions, extra tomatoes—exactly the way Jensen would’ve ordered it; Jared knows him so well. Fridays usually find them having lunch in Jensen’s classroom. More often than not, Jared orders out since neither one of them has to supervise lunch in the atrium.

“You knew we were going home together.”

Jared makes a strange sound, unable to form words with a mouthful of greens. Since he can’t get Jensen to the gym, he insists on salads on a regular basis.

“I didn’t know he was breakfast material,” Jared says after swallowing. There's a deep line on Jared’s forehead that won’t smooth itself out. Now that Jensen thinks back, it’s been there all day.

“We had a good night. I thought you were okay with this.” Jensen frowns. “Is there something I should know about Tahmoh?”

“No, it’s…” Jared sighs. “Sorry, Jensen, it has nothing to do with you or Tahmoh. I’m just having a bad day, I guess.”

“Did you stay at the bar after we left?”

Jared glances across the desk. He knows what Jensen’s asking. “I had one more beer before I went home. I was fine, I promise.”

“I know. Just curious if maybe you met someone there,” Jensen covers. Jared certainly draws his share of attention when they go out. Back in college, dishing on hook-ups became a favorite activity of theirs. Jared didn't mind hearing about the guys Jensen brought home, and Jensen only pretended to be grossed out when Jared told him about some of the more interesting women he met out at the clubs.

As they got older (though not necessarily more mature), they had other things to deal with. Getting laid was a lower priority than finals and graduate school applications. That turned into surviving grad school and the strain it placed on their time, social lives, and finances. By the time they both started at Hallgrove, dishing on their one-night stands (which were fewer and farther in between) wasn’t something they did. Especially after they’d both tried, and failed, to maintain serious relationships.

Yet, Jared knew how lonely Jensen was without needing to ask. Hence, the blind date.

Jared insists he doesn’t want to talk about what’s bothering him, and Jensen knows he just needs to be patient. He always comes to Jensen for support eventually; they can tell each other anything.

Jensen’s usually the one to bag the trash and take their to-go containers to the recycling bins. Today, he gets a text as he’s snagging one last bite of the too-delicious pita bread the deli packs with their salads.

**Want to come to our meet tomorrow night?**

**Not the whole thing** , Tahmoh’s next text clarifies. **It’s a home meet. Maybe you can stop by for the last few events and then we can grab a late dinner?**

“Don’t worry, I’ll get rid of this stuff.” Jared mutters, grabbing the remains of their lunch and pulling the smile off Jensen’s face.

“Sorry I just need a second—”

“Don’t bother.” Jared’s hands are full, but he manages to nudge the classroom door open with his hip. He looks back. “I’ll catch you later, okay?” 

He doesn’t give Jensen a chance to acknowledge his hasty exit. Jensen shrugs and promises himself that he won’t let Jared stew for too long. Then he texts Tahmoh and starts a list of late-night dives they can hit up after the swim meet until the bell rings and his next class arrives.

### PART TWO

Jensen claims the last available table in Troubadour’s, his favorite local coffeehouse, setting two cups on the scratched, well-loved wood. One a Cafe Mocha, sweetness hidden behind a plain paper mug. The other a hideously pink frap- _something_ concoction involving cotton candy and caffeine near which Jensen is embarrassed to be seen.

Jared has the worst taste in coffee house drinks. He’s also late.

Pulling out his iPad, Jensen scans through his students’ essay submissions, taking notes separately. His back celebrates this kind of technology and not having dozens of paper assignments to carry to and from Hallgrove every day, but he’s always appreciated the simple sensation of putting pen to paper.

He gets through two assignments before Jared swings his bag onto an empty chair. 

“Sorry, I had to call Robin’s parents about his missing papers. They had no clue he wasn’t turning in assignments.”

“Everything go okay?” Jensen asks.

Jared shrugs and pushes a lock of hair away from his face. “They gave me an excuse about the stress of college applications and I had to remind them that grades still matter.” The resignation in his voice is familiar to Jensen. They all have to deal with their share of college-hungry parents who hold college applications above schoolwork.

“Hey, you got my drink.” Jared sucks the straw between his lips while Jensen tries not to gag at the imagined taste. He’s just glad Jared’s here.

It’s been almost two weeks since Jensen’s blind date, nearly that long since he and Jared spent time together outside of Hallgrove. Jensen called him Sunday morning to tell him about the swim meet he’d gone to, but Jared never called him back. Texts went unanswered. Monday came with excuses—Jared said he’d needed to take care of something involving his family and promised he’d come to Jensen’s house that night to catch up on some DVR’ed episodes of their favorite show. 

That never happened.

Jared wasn’t just dodging Jensen, either. Tahmoh’s texts were met with silence, too. He wasn’t as freaked out as Jensen, however.

“Maybe he thinks he’s being considerate,” Tahmoh speculated over the phone after Jensen asked if he’d seen Jared at the gym. “Giving us space, you know?”

Jensen didn’t respond to that. He supposed it was possible—Jensen wasn’t keeping his feelings for Tahmoh a secret—but Jared never acted this way when Jensen dated other guys in the past. 

“I thought you were gonna stand me up again,” Jensen says.

“I said I was sorry about last week. Family stuff, you know?”

Jensen doesn’t mention that he'd texted Jared's brother and sister to make sure everything was okay with the extended Padalecki clan. According to Jeff and Megan, Jared was ignoring most of their messages, too. After that discovery, Jensen was determined to get Jared to hang out with him regardless of excuses. He aimed for Jared’s weakness: Jensen himself.

“You know I can’t go to Troubadour’s by myself,” Jensen had implored when he cornered Jared in the hallway outside the teacher’s lounge earlier that day. “You can’t leave me alone with my vices!” Which was true; without Jared there to curb him, Jensen would order enough coffee to power a small army.

Still, Jared tried to wiggle his way out. “I’m sure Tahmoh would go with you.”

“I’m asking you, dumbass,” Jensen cursed, fed-up yet keeping the annoyance out of his voice, “and we’re going this afternoon. I’ve got a lot of grading to do and I can’t get anything done at home.”

Now that he finally has Jared in front of him, Jensen’s not sure what to say. This is a complication he never expected. Their friendship has been free of bumps and sharp curves for years.

Jared starts pulling out his own work. “How’s Tahmoh?”

“Really good. Four more of his swimmers qualified for the state championships at their last meet. So now he’s qualified more swimmers this year than any other year in Calhoun’s history, and there are still three meets left this season.” 

Jensen grins remembering how he and Tahmoh celebrated the achievement. Calhoun’s away meet was too far for Jensen to reasonably attend, but he told Tahmoh to come to the house no matter how late he got back. That was only the third time Tahmoh spent the night, but Jensen was already comfortable with Tahmoh in his house, his space, his bed.

The following morning, he and Tahmoh went to brunch where they ordered three full plates and split everything. Jensen pretended to swoon when Tahmoh left him the last piece of bacon (Jared would have never let Jensen have it). Rather than rushing off after eating, they sat at their table talking as the brunch rush slowly trickled to nothing around them. Conversation flowed from one topic to another. Jensen went on about his favorite satirical works, which somehow led to talking about comedians they both enjoyed. Tahmoh told him more about his twin sisters, and they spent half an hour swapping crazy sibling stories. 

Jensen absorbed every detail, eager to learn.

Later that week, Tahmoh came over despite being exhausted from pushing himself a little too hard between the pool and the gym and a suboptimal amount of sleep. It didn’t bother Jensen that they never got around to having sex that night, happy to order take-out and watch television. Although Tahmoh still had enough energy to make out with Jensen on the couch after dinner until he needed to leave. 

He looks over to see if Jared’s noticed the way his thoughts have drifted, but Jared’s eyes are on his papers, the end of his pen pressed to the corner of his mouth. A common habit, but Jensen finds himself drawn to the way Jared’s lips are slightly parted, the unconscious movement of his pen slowly being drawn across his bottom lip.

Looking at his best friend, Jensen starts to feel guilty. There were plenty of opportunities when he could’ve made plans with Jared over the last week instead of seeing Tahmoh, but Jensen's been in the glow of a new relationship. And Jared hasn’t exactly been knocking down his door. Still, perhaps it’s not Jared’s fault...

His thoughts are given voice before Jensen can hold them back. “Do you think I’ve been avoiding you?” 

“Hmm?” Jared meets his eyes. The furrow between his brows deepens. “What are you talking about?”

“With Tahmoh,” Jensen explains. “I’m sorry if you thought I didn’t want to hang out with you.”

He sees Jared’s defenses go up, gaze sharpening. “I never said that. I’m not a kid whining for attention, Jen.”

“Whoa, Jared…” Jensen holds his hands up to deflect, surprised at how quickly Jared jumped to the incorrect conclusion. “That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Is that why you wanted to meet me here? To make sure I was okay with your new relationship?”

“I invited you because I wanted to see you,” Jensen hisses in an attempt to keep from being overheard. Troubadour’s is full this time of the afternoon, but still… “Call me fucking crazy, but I miss you.”

“I’ve got a lot going on.”

“Yeah, a lot you’re not telling me about, Jay.” The nickname slips out whenever Jensen’s feeling emotional over his best friend, with now standing as a perfect example. “You’ve always been able to talk to me, so what’s changed?”

Jared drops his head. “It’s nothing you need to worry about.”

“That’s ridiculous. You know I’m gonna worry anyway,” Jensen assures him. “Is this about me dating again? You had to figure there was a chance of that happening when you set me up with Tahmoh.”

“It’s not about Tahmoh.”

“Good, because I really like him.” Jensen can’t fight the smile the admission brings to his face. “I hated the idea of a blind date when you brought it up, but you did a damn good job. He’s a great guy, but it seems like you don’t want me to talk about him. He was your friend first,” Jensen reminds him, “I don’t want to come between you guys.”

Jared’s stony expression softens. He reaches for Jensen’s hand across the table. “You haven’t.”

“Then tell me how to fix whatever this is, and I’ll try to do it. If you want me to make plans with you before Tahmoh—”

“Jen, stop it. You don’t need to do anything for me.” The strain in Jared’s voice is obvious to Jensen, but he doesn’t comment. “I knew you and Tahmoh would hit it off. That’s why I set you up with him.”

“Sounds like you had to convince him.”

“I had to convince you, too,” Jared points out, “but I wasn’t trying to convince him. If he said no, that’s his loss. But I like talking about you, and Tahmoh wanted to hear it. I’m glad it’s working out,” he adds, “and maybe I’ve been giving you a little bit of space so that I’m not getting in the way.”

Seems like Tahmoh had the way of things after all.

“Like I said, you’re crazy. I don’t need space from you, and I definitely don’t want to keep you and Tahmoh in separate corners of my life. I thought going out with him would be easier since y’all were already friends.”

Jared leans back in his chair. Their work lies ignored on the table. So much for grading.

“I’ve really messed things up, huh?”

Shaking his head, Jensen says, “It’s a weird situation.”

“Is it? This isn’t the first time you’ve dated a guy I know.”

“Tahmoh’s your friend, not just a guy in one of your classes or a random coworker. Things are bound to be a little weird.” Jensen grins. “At least we’re dealing with this now and not further down the road. Just...just promise me that you’ll say something if things get weird again, okay?”

“You just seem really happy,” Jared says, “I didn’t want to distract you from that.”

“How happy do you think I can be when you’re not around?” Jensen points out. He’s never gone more than two weeks without seeing Jared since he moved into Jensen’s apartment when they started going to the same grad school. “And you haven’t agreed to my promise yet.”

Jared concedes easily, his smile finally reaching his eyes. “Fine, I promise not to be a shithead about your relationship.”

“And to talk to me before you start avoiding me again.”

“That too.” Stretching his arms, Jared hauls himself out of the chair. 

“Wait, are you leaving?”

“Just grabbing you another cup of coffee,” Jared says. “We’re gonna be here awhile and I’m pretty sure yours has gone cold.”

“Nothing crazy,” Jensen tells him as he heads for the counter. “And nothing pink!”

**~~~~~**

Jensen is held prisoner by the pressure of pink lips around his cock, strong hands kneading the back of his thighs. If he looks down, he won't be able to last: the sight of a tall, beautiful man kneeling before him would unravel him faster than a tongue slipping beneath the crown. Proving to Tahmoh that he has stamina seems like the better option.

Tahmoh takes this as a personal challenge, applying every skill he's learned and treating Jensen to the filthiest, wettest blowjob he's ever received. Jensen's not really a fan of unenthusiastic head (well, he likes it _less_ than other pleasures), but it's as if Tahmoh is seeking to erase every other experience from Jensen's mind. 

And _fuck_ if he's not succeeding.

The bathroom counter assaults his spine, but Jensen barely notices the cold granite cutting into his skin. He'll take the certain bruise as a memento on which to think back. A draft from the open bathroom door rushes over Jensen’s shoulders causing him to shudder. His skin hasn’t even dried from his shower—Tahmoh swept him up as soon as Jensen stepped out of the glass stall with only a towel around his waist.

Tahmoh mistakes the shiver for discomfort and pulls his mouth away. “Should I do something else?”

Jensen drops his chin and tries not to fucking _whine_ at the hazy arousal in Tahmoh’s eyes. “If you don’t keep going I’m going to drown you in the bathtub.” An empty threat since his bones have the consistency of Jell-O right now, but Tahmoh teases him for it regardless. Jensen’s cock on his lips makes for a pretty picture, and this is exactly why Jensen was trying not to look. He remains on edge even without his dick hitting the back of Tahmoh’s throat. Broad shoulders bare beneath Jensen’s hands, Tahmoh is only half naked, loose flannel bottoms cushioning his knees from the rough weave of the bathroom rug.

It's strange to feel the wet rub of Tahmoh’s bottom lip against the underside of Jensen’s cock. Like a tongue only softer, not as deliberate. Jensen wants to be back in the molten heat of his mouth before the rush in his blood ebbs away. Quick half-thrusts of his hips must get the message across because within the next breath Tahmoh sucks him down. Further than he did before, Jensen’s thrust combined with an open throat. Jensen sends a quick _hallelujah_ skyward when Tahmoh not only doesn’t gag, but keeps pressure on Jensen’s ass preventing him from pulling away.

The meaning is clear.

Jensen starts fucking his mouth as gently as possible, slow undulations that give Tahmoh plenty of time to adjust if he needs it. Stamina be damned, Jensen won’t last long. Not with Tahmoh moaning each time Jensen fucks deep, his fingers curling into the cleft of Jensen’s ass once he no longer needs to encourage with firm hands.

They haven’t progressed to full penetrative sex yet, and Jensen is perfectly content to wait. Especially since what they have done has been fantastic, worthy of a standing ovation if Jensen could ever manage to use his legs after Tahmoh gets him off.

One hard suck hits Jensen exactly in the right spot, and suddenly he’s cresting. “‘-moh, I’m gonna…” he warns, forcing Tahmoh to pull off seconds before Jensen comes all over his chest. Jensen’s surprised he has anything left after the night before, but the sight of white drops staining Tahmoh’s smooth skin is almost enough for Jensen to wish he could get hard again.

Though another orgasm would probably kill him.

Jensen wonders what it means that Tahmoh already knows to stand up and wrap his arms around Jensen before his knees buckle. As miraculous as the blowjob was, swaying lightly in Tahmoh’s arms takes his breath away.

“Did you call me Moh?”

It takes a few heartbeats for Jensen’s brain to come back online. “Hmm?”

“When you came, I thought I heard…”

“Oh.” Jensen remembers trying to say Tahmoh’s name when his breath got in the way. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tahmoh whispers, turning his mouth to rub delicately across Jensen’s cheek. “I don’t mind. Tahmoh can be kind of a mouthful.”

Jensen rocks his soft cock against the front of Tahmoh’s pants. “Yeah, you are.”

Suddenly Tahmoh’s shoulders are shaking. Not with lust but with amusement. “You couldn’t let that one go, huh?”

Not a chance, Jensen thinks. “You gonna shower?”

Tahmoh leans back so that Jensen can see the shiny streaks of come remaining on his skin.

“Obviously.”

Jensen lets him step out of the embrace. “I’ll make breakfast. Want some coffee? I bought more French roast.”

Tahmoh smiles. “Definitely.”

After throwing on a clean t-shirt and boxers, Jensen heads downstairs to start breakfast. Poached eggs over turkey sausage and whole wheat English muffins: easy and filling for the both of them, and definitely better than the green juice Jared leaves in his fridge for when he stays over. Jensen refuses to drink anything that smells like freaking compost.

Since Tahmoh doesn’t schedule practice on Friday mornings, Thursday has become their unofficial sleepover night. Jensen’s happy to have Tahmoh spending the night at his house. He's been to Tahmoh’s apartment (and touched his Olympic bronze medal, which raced straight to the top of Jensen's list of kinks he refuses to acknowledge), but they’re more comfortable in Jensen’s space.

Seeing Tahmoh’s coffee mixed in with Jensen’s sweeter varieties reminds Jensen of the mini breakdown he suffered in the grocery store when he realized he was buying food specifically for Tahmoh. Not like he hasn’t bought stuff for Jared before, but this is someone he’s dating. It’s a big deal, okay? He texted Jared from the store (all caps to prove that he was freaking out) and was grateful when Jared responded.

**Just buy the stupid coffee you moron.**

Best friends. So goddamn supportive. Jensen figured that since he already kept food for Jared around the kitchen—ridiculous things like pressed ginger and mango juice and a bag of sour gummy worms—Tahmoh's coffee wasn't a big deal.

Jensen hears the shower cut off. Tahmoh usually dresses quickly, so Jensen throws one of his pods into the Keurig. It finishes brewing as Tahmoh steps into the kitchen wearing jeans and a Calhoun Swimming t-shirt that’s deliciously tight across his shoulders.

In the middle of eating, Tahmoh looks up from his phone. “Has Jared said anything to you about changing gyms?”

That’s news to Jensen. “He changed gyms?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he started going at a different time.”

“He hasn’t said anything to me,” Jensen admits. “You haven’t seen him there?”

“Not in the last couple of weeks. I’m used to seeing him three or four times every week. Just thought he might have said something to you.”

Jared hasn’t been deliberately avoiding Jensen since their talk at Troubadour’s, but maybe things aren’t back to normal yet.

“I’ll ask him.”

“If he’s got an injury, tell him that I can teach him plenty of exercises depending on what hurts. He mentioned that he hyperextended his knee back in college…”

Jensen doesn’t mean to tune Tahmoh out, but his mind keeps coming back to Jared’s inexplicable behavior. Obviously Jensen needs to arm himself with more than cotton candy frappuccinos to get to the bottom of the issue.

“Jensen?”

“Sorry, I was just trying to remember if Jared mentioned anything.”

His lapse doesn’t bother Tahmoh. “I said I’ve got to get going. Coaches meeting with the athletic director this morning.”

Tahmoh doesn’t have a meet tonight, so Jensen feels confident asking him to go out later.

“Yeah, I can do something after practice. Text me with what you have in mind, okay?” Tahmoh rinses his plate and drops it in the dishwasher (further evidence that he’s actually the perfect guy). “You should tell Jared to come. Unless you want something private, of course,” he adds with a smirk.

Tahmoh kisses him at the threshold and Jensen can’t help thinking it’s an ideal way to end a near-perfect morning.

Unfortunately, his near-perfect morning turns into a shit-storm of an afternoon. The fire alarm starts to flash during Jensen’s lunch period, and since every drill is preceded by an announcement (and at least a dozen email reminders), Jensen figures it’s the real deal. Less than a minute later, the lights flicker for a few seconds before the power cuts out completely. 

Jensen joins Hallgrove students and other teachers in the hallway as they start to file out of the English building.

“It just had to go off when it’s raining outside,” Jensen hears Hallgrove’s journalism teacher Boyd complain, and suddenly things seem so much worse.

Jensen endures nearly an hour outside in the cool rain while he helps corral students away from the building. Eventually it’s deemed safe for the students to move to other buildings, but Jensen and his fellow teachers are stuck talking to firefighters and dashing between buildings. By the time the firefighters determine that the culprit is an overloaded electrical panel that had sparked and smoked, Jensen is cold, wet, and ridiculously uncomfortable. When classes resume, his students are restless and basically useless. Jensen can’t keep them focused, so he gives up twenty minutes before the final bell and lets them use their phones. From the constant chorus of beeps and chimes, Jensen’s fellow educators had the same plan.

Jensen seizes the opportunity to text Tahmoh from his tablet hoping for some sympathy. Pressure is building behind his eyes. Between that and the stress, Jensen figures he’s in for an epic headache later. He pops two Motrin from the locked drawer in his desk.

Tahmoh texts back within a few minutes. **You deserve a stress free night. Made plans yet?**

**Haven’t had a chance. Wanna come over and finish Daredevil?**

**You read my mind. I’ll hit the gym before practice so I can come right over. Food?**

**Definitely food. Surprise me :-)**

With the day thrown out of whack, Jensen never finds time to talk to Jared in person. They text after school about the non-fire (Jared was lucky enough to be on lunch duty in the atrium when the alarm went off), but Jensen decides not to invite him over. He needs to figure out the next move where Jared is concerned, and he won’t be able to do that with a headache.

Regardless, later that night while Jensen’s curled up on his couch, treated to Charlie Cox’s masterful Marvel performance on-screen and a neck rub from Tahmoh, there’s a part of him that remains antsy, unable to relax.

He tries not to think about it.

**~~~~~**

“You wanna grab seats while I get popcorn?”

Jensen doesn’t know why Jared’s even asking; this is routine for them. But he answers anyway. “Extra butter this time?”

Jared throws him a look while Jensen stands his ground. Movies are meant to be watched with salty, buttery goodness in hand. End of story. 

“Fine,” Jared concedes. “Try to grab seats in the middle, not too far up.”

The theater is already crowded, people beginning to sit down in the buffer seats usually left between the groups who got there early. Jensen lucks out with a pair of seats just below the middle, slightly to the left. He sets his jacket on the empty seat so no one gets any ideas and waits for Jared.

He was shocked when Jared called and invited him to see a movie, but since Tahmoh had prior plans with his assistant coach Felicia, Jensen had no problem saying yes. 

Jared sidles his way past people’s legs until he reaches his seat. In addition to the bucket of popcorn in his hands, he’s got a bottle of water and a box of Swedish Fish candy. Typical Jared.

Jensen scoffs. “And you got on my case about the butter?”

“Shut up, man. I can cheat for one day.” Jared slouches in his seat.

“Speaking of cheat days, have you been to the gym lately?”

Jared pauses with a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth. He looks at the massive screen in front of them, pretending to be interested in the pre-trailer ads. In other words, guilty as hell.

“I wasn’t feeling well last week,” he claims, “and something funky’s been going on with my knee. I figured I’d take some time off. Why?”

“Tahmoh mentioned that he hadn’t seen you there.”

“Tahmoh talks about me?”

“Of course, he’s your friend. I think he’s missed seeing you.”

“I’ll text him,” Jared says, continuing to avoid Jensen’s stare. “Maybe we can figure out a time to work out together next week.”

Jensen wants to make sure. “What if I offered to go with you?”

That gets Jared’s attention. “To the gym? Are you serious?” His smile stretches wider as he tries not to outright laugh.

“Why is that so crazy?” Jensen demands. “I can go to the gym.”

“Yeah, but you _don’t_. You hate working out.”

“Yeah, well you’re always telling me that I need to do more than running.” He pulls out his phone and double checks his schedule. “How about Tuesday?” he asks. If they pick a day and put it in the calendar, Jared might be more inclined to show up. 

“Tahmoh and I used to meet there around six. That okay?”

Jensen nods. “If I have both of you there, I’m twice as likely not to die from some weight-related mishap.”

Jared winks, giving Jensen a much longed for glimpse of his old, carefree self. “We’ll take care of you.”

The screen goes green announcing the first of many previews. Plenty of people are still talking amongst themselves and playing on their phones. 

Jared leans over the armrest so that Jensen can hear him without speaking too loud. “You could have invited Tahmoh tonight.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“I know I could’ve invited him,” Jensen says. “He had plans anyway, but I told him where we were going.”

“What about grabbing a drink after the movie?”

“Pretty sure Tahmoh was gonna head home. It’s just us tonight, okay?”

“Just making sure you know that you can invite him. I don’t mind being the third wheel.”

“You’re _not_.” Trusting his gut, Jensen grabs Jared’s non-butter covered hand and curls their fingers together. “That’s ridiculous, so don’t say that again. You’re not interfering, or causing problems, or whatever you’re thinking inside that Cro-Magnon skull of yours.”

Jared leaves his hand in Jensen’s. They might as well be the only people in the crowded theater. 

“It’s weird, Tahmoh said almost the exact same thing about not wanting to come between us,” Jensen muses aloud. “He’s always telling me to invite you whenever we go out. He knows you’re a priority for me. But seriously, you both need to stop.”

Jensen doesn’t care that they’ve missed an entire preview—certain things needed saying. He already feels less tense. Jared, too, looks like he’s carrying less weight on his shoulders.

It’s not until the lights dim all the way that Jensen realizes he’s still holding Jared’s hand. He looks over, strange feelings swirling somewhere around his stomach. Jared gives him an easy smile, slipping his hand free to offer Jensen the bucket of popcorn.

**~~~~~**

There’s a daunting amount of work waiting for Jensen on Sunday afternoon. No doubt Jared’s busy doing the same thing, and Tahmoh is planning his practices for the week. Jensen thought about inviting Tahmoh over so they could get their work done together, but Jensen’s glad to have time alone.

What happened at the movies was strange. Far from the first time he’s held Jared’s hand, but there was something weighted about the entire conversation that he’s having trouble thinking about.

Jensen’s relationship with Tahmoh has obviously put a strain on his friendship with Jared. He hasn't been able to trace the cause. Until last night, he thought it was simple petulance—nothing more than the bitterness of a friend being ditched in favor of a new relationship. Right now, he’s not sure of anything.

Jared’s been there through nearly all of Jensen’s significant relationships, and vice versa. Whatever jealousy or resentment develops is usually brushed aside within a couple of days. They’re best friends—they get over shit like that. So why isn’t it working this time?

Jensen recognizes that what he has with Tahmoh could be special. He hasn’t felt this attached to a guy since he dated Aiden during grad school. He also knows that Tahmoh and Aiden, the most serious boyfriends Jensen’s ever had, are nothing alike. Meaning the chances of Jensen’s relationship with Tahmoh going up in flames are significantly less. 

Jared was there to pull Jensen out of the rubble when his relationship with Aiden collapsed. It wasn't easy to overcome the pain of realizing that Aiden would never acknowledge their relationship in public or even to his own family, despite seeing Jensen for almost fourteen months. The fallout prevented Jensen from dating for more than a year, but it was Jared who finally convinced him to attempt something more than one-night stands with guys he met at clubs and bars. And it was Jared who continued to drag his ass off their couch when those attempts led nowhere.

His thoughts are running in circles, creating a furrow in Jensen’s mind that’s so deep, he needs to stop before he’s unable to climb his way out.

An hour into grading, Jensen’s phone chimes. Only two people would be texting him this afternoon.

**FML I hate grading. Why did we decide to become teachers again?**

Jensen laughs. The distraction is a relief. 

**Because nothing else in our major paid well.**

**We should write novels.**

**Too much work** , Jensen types.

Jared’s response comes quickly. **Then we should write ONE novel and split the work.**

Thirty minutes later, they’re trading absurd novel ideas back and forth. Jensen critiques his students’ outlines in between sending Jared thoughts about their future steampunk-slash-werewolf-slash-erotic murder mystery novel.

**This is gonna be a masterpiece. At least two sequels.**

**And a movie deal** , Jensen types. **Who are you bringing to the red carpet premiere?**

**You, obviously.**

**You, me, and Moh, right?** Jensen adds a wink, a star, and a clapperboard emoji.

He expects a funny response. Something about scandalizing the media with such a sexy threesome, but it never comes. Jensen sets his phone on the table and glares as if the device has offended him. Minutes drag by, and Jensen’s about to text Jared apologizing for whatever made the conversation go sideways when it finally chimes.

**Sorry, I’ve still got a lot of grading to do. Nothing like procrastinating, huh?**

Jensen feels the dismissal as keenly as if they were face to face.

**~~~~~**

“You don’t have to do this.”

Tahmoh’s using what Jensen refers to as his zen-voice. Combined with his soft accent, it has a tendency to entice Jensen into a state of relaxation (or extreme arousal depending on the circumstances). By chance or luck, the three of them are alone in the well-appointed locker room of Jared and Tahmoh’s expensive gym. Jensen wishes he could say that he's not trying to psych himself up, but it would be a lie.

"You stretched, right?"

And there's Jared chiming in with his _I know we're making a huge mistake, but I'm just gonna go with it_ tone. Jensen can't decide which man is more annoying at the moment.

"I've been to this gym before!"

"It's been a while," Jared points out. "There's a smoothie bar around the corner from the front desk..."

"Don't you dare," Jensen hisses. He blocks out the sound of Tahmoh chuckling behind them. "I am not drinking a fucking smoothie, Jared. Do you guys not want me at your beautiful-people gym or something?"

"You're gonna be fine." Tahmoh cuts in before Jensen can unleash another tirade. "Jared and I came up with a light circuit for you."

"Circuit Training for Dummies, huh?"

This time, it's Jared who laughs. "Do you want to be sore tomorrow, Jen? You haven't done most of this stuff for a while. If you push too hard on the first day, you're gonna be hurting all week."

Jared turns to secure his bag in one of the empty lockers, giving Tahmoh the opportunity to bend down and whisper in Jensen's ear. "I really don't want you to be sore later. I've got plans." Jensen doesn't make a sound, but his heart races. Tahmoh's mouth curves against his cheek. "And don't worry, you're definitely going to be most beautiful guy out there."

Jared slams his locker shut. He busies himself with his shoelaces even though Jensen swears he tied them a few minutes ago. Tahmoh steps back to give Jensen some space.

"Ready?"

"As a heart attack," Jensen grumbles. 

Jared's smile returns. "Let's hope you don't have one of those."

Twenty minutes later, Jensen is seriously considering faking a heart attack. The vital muscle is about to pound itself right out of his chest.

"I've made a huge mistake," he mutters in true Bluth style. Next to him, Jared snorts. They'd marathoned Arrested Development many times while they lived together. 

"Ten more lunges, Jen," he instructs. "Then water."

Readjusting his grip on the kettlebells in his hands, Jensen steps back into the lunge. His quads protest the strain, but he pushes through, lowering himself so that his back knee nearly touches the floor while keeping his support leg steady. He alternates legs until he hits ten, then drops the kettlebells at his feet and heads for his water bottle.

Jensen is positive he's already sweated out twice as much water as he's taken in, but the liquid feels amazing as he swallows it down. His gaze finds Tahmoh across the room where he's occupying one of the fancy rowing machines, too focused on getting his reps in that he doesn't notice Jensen's attention. Jared remains with the kettlebells watching himself in the mirror as he lifts two (twice the size of the ones Jensen was using, obviously) in a double shoulder press. 

This was a horrible idea. And not because of the way Jensen's legs feel like burning, melting plastic. No, it's horrible because working out with Tahmoh and Jared means he's forced to look at them the entire time.

Sure, Jensen's pleased that his plan to restore Jared to his routine is working. Back in the locker room, Jared seemed happy, mood lighter than it's been, and Tahmoh was definitely excited to have his workout buddy again. But for Jensen, this is fucking torture. 

Tahmoh and Jared look like extras straight out of _Spartacus_ (only clean-shaven and not nearly as naked). As a gay man, Jensen has come to see gyms as giant shops filled with sweaty eye-candy, so long as you go to the _right_ gym, of course, but Jared and Tahmoh are in a different arena of hotness. 

Tahmoh glides back and forth on the rowing machine, powerful legs extending as he works the muscles across his upper back. He's barely broken a sweat; Jensen suspects Tahmoh's sticking to an easier routine tonight because of him. This is crazy, because if their places were switched, Jensen’s arms would’ve given out by now. At least he gets to watch and savor the fluid movement of Tahmoh's body, the way the sweat gathers at his temples and along his throat. 

Thank god for the other people scattered around the gym; if they were alone, there'd be nothing preventing Jensen from climbing onto Tahmoh's lap and pressing up against every glistening inch of his magnificent form. His thighs bracing Jensen from behind while arms capable of winning Olympic glory circle Jensen and hold him close.

Jensen needs to get a grip on himself before he does something obscene. (Though not a literal grip, of course, because that would definitely be obscene.)

He tears his eyes from Tahmoh only to find Jared doing his own set of lunges. Unlike Jensen’s struggling, Jared knows what he’s doing. Balancing on some kind of half-ball, half-platform, Jared steps back and lunges with kettlebells in his hands. The combination of holding his balance and sinking down at the same time must be hell on his muscles, yet he manages to make it look easy. Each lunge is slow, deliberate, but requires more effort and coordination than a dozen regular lunges. 

Jared’s legs are a sight to behold, quadriceps thick over his knees. Jensen can just imagine what those moves do for his ass. No wonder Jared always looks so good in his jeans.

“Jen!” Jared’s shout catches him off-guard. He’s smirking; Jensen doubts he got away with ogling. “Get back here, you’ve been standing there long enough.”

“Do I have to?” He’s only half-joking. He’d rather be anywhere but here for reasons of a physical nature.

“Ten more minutes of kettlebells and then I’ll send you over to Moh, okay?”

Jensen sighs and gives himself over to the torture.

“You’re doing awesome,” Jared tells him in the middle of his next set. Fortunately for Jensen’s legs, Jared has shifted focus to his arms. “You should definitely come to the gym more often.”

Jensen flexes his bicep to lift the weight. “And embarrass you guys? No thanks.”

“What are you talking about? You’re making us look good.”

He scowls. “Because I’m such an amateur? Everyone in here looks like they’re training for freakin’ American Ninja Warrior, Jared.”

“Shut up, that’s not what I meant,” Jared explains. “I’m saying you elevate our status just by association.”

Jared’s words don’t connect to meaning until he leans a little closer, hand on Jensen’s elbow to keep it tight against his side, making his bicep curl more effective. “You’re hot, Jen. And you know it.”

Jensen might’ve been blessed with attractive features, and he doesn’t mind hearing it from someone whose opinion he values, but no matter what Jared says, Jensen’s not the one drawing stares from all corners. Jensen’s caught more than a few men and women ogling his friends, some more intensely than others. Tahmoh, in particular, has been the recipient of hungry gazes. Some of the attention comes from his title as Olympic medalist (his autographed photo is framed above the check-in desk along with other famous current and former clients), but it’s not the only reason. He’s captivating to watch.

And then there’s Jared with his boyish charm and enthusiasm. When he laughs at Jensen’s grumpiness, the sound spreads throughout the spacious gym. He’s friendly and open, and Jensen wonders if he would be flirting with any of the other members if Jensen wasn’t there hoarding his time.

The swift fire of possessiveness blazes through Jensen. It comes out of nowhere, but the most shocking thing is that it’s not reserved solely for the man he’s dating. Jensen wants to claim both of them—call out to everyone else that they’re his.

It may be the craziest thought Jensen has ever had, but at the same time, it quells a certain craving within him, one he’s never dared to acknowledge before now. 

“Alright, switch it up to your triceps,” Jared says once he’s satisfied with Jensen’s bicep curls. “Arms up—grip your opposite elbow. Hang on, not like that.”

Jensen’s eyes are fixed on their reflections as Jared steps up behind him, moving Jensen’s arms where he wants them. He speaks in low tones while he instructs Jensen on the proper way to isolate his triceps. He barely grants Jensen any space, observing carefully.

“Keep your abs in, Jen. Chest lifted.” He lowers his hands to Jensen’s back. “Don’t want to strain your spine at all.” 

Jensen follows the instructions as well as he can, but his body is drawn to Jared’s. He sways almost unconsciously, feels Jared’s chest at his back. Jared answers by sliding one hand around Jensen’s waist, pressing in.

“Stay put,” he whispers, tremor evident in his voice. He meets Jensen’s eyes via the large mirror in front of them. Jensen can easily imagine the same words being whispered in a different situation. No one else around, heat pressing in on them as they trade touches in Jensen’s bed…

Jensen closes his eyes before Jared can read too much from their reflection. He feels sweat running down his spine, overheating not from the exertion in his muscles, but from the proximity of his best friend. 

“Jen…”

He opens his eyes. The longing in his own expression is obvious, but he’s not alone. Jared is watching him with a look that’s nearly devastating. Terrified about what Jared is going to say, Jensen steps forward and prays that the space between them in enough of a buffer

Jared’s expression crumbles.

“How’s it going over here?”

Jensen’s not sure whether he’s relieved or irritated when Tahmoh appears. He’s leaning towards the former, the tension present only a moment ago dispersing quickly. Jared ducks away as Tahmoh steps up to Jensen’s side and teasingly grabs his bicep.

“Damn,” he says, “feels pretty good.”

“Hey,” Jensen feigns offense, “I have great arms already.”

“I know you do.” By way of apology, Tahmoh brushes his mouth along Jensen’s forehead: an affectionate gesture Jensen would have no problem with if the moment with Jared had never happened. He accepts the near-kiss, glancing to the side where Jared shuffles awkwardly.

“Feel like trying the ropes?” Tahmoh asks.

Jensen rolls his eyes. “Because nothing could go wrong there.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jared says, wiping his face with a towel. “Go on.”

Jensen waits for him to look up—he wants to see what’s going on in Jared’s head and the only way to do that without saying anything is to look in his eyes—but he never does. Tahmoh’s already walking in the opposite direction, and after few seconds, Jensen gives up and follows. 

Turns out the heavy ropes are a welcome distraction. Jensen’s too busy trying not to give himself first degree rope-burn or _thwap_ Tahmoh in the legs to worry about what passed between him and Jared.

### PART THREE

“I don’t see why we couldn’t have ordered a pizza.”

“After all that work you just did?”

“Exactly,” Jensen points out, “that’s why I deserve pizza.”

Tahmoh sets the bags of food on Jensen’s kitchen counter. “I thought you liked Graze?”

“I like pizza more.” Already a little worn down, Jensen leans his forehead against Tahmoh’s shoulder. He feels a slight jostling before Tahmoh’s raises his other arm and sets a warm hand against Jensen’s cheek.

“I can’t believe you would fall asleep before food.”

Jensen soaks up the touch. His mind is disordered. He doesn’t have the energy to deal with any of it. Tahmoh warns that their food is getting cold (or warm in the case of Tahmoh’s protein-heavy salad) and they move to the couch. Tahmoh brings them each a glass of ice water and grabs two of Jensen’s coasters from a box on the coffee table. There's barely any room on the table between the books, Jensen's iPod, the first two seasons of Community that Jared loaned him, and one of Tahmoh's binders, but he manages to set the glasses down. 

“Damn, you’re perfect.” Jensen says more to himself than anything. If Tahmoh’s casual smile is anything to go by, it wasn’t quiet enough.

“You’ll feel better after you eat.”

“I feel fine.”

“You look like you’re about to slip into a coma.”

Tahmoh is right, though. The food restores some of the energy that seeped out between finishing his workout, picking up dinner, and driving back to his house. Tahmoh invited Jared to come along, but he gave the excuse that he had too much grading to catch up on. So does Jensen, to be honest. Unlike Jared, he’s willing to procrastinate.

“Hey,” Tahmoh nudges Jensen’s shoulder, drawing his eyes away from his iPad where he’s been creating lesson plans for the rest of the week. “Do you mind if I stay here tonight?”

Tuesdays aren’t their usual sleepover night. “Don’t you have an early practice?”

Tahmoh groans. “Six a.m.”

“Sure. You can make sure my legs still work in the morning.”

“If I do my job right, you won’t be able to move anything tomorrow.” The flirty words are punctuated with a yawn, dampening their effect. They both sink further into Jensen’s couch.

Ten minutes have passed before Tahmoh speaks up again.

“Mind if I ask you something kinda weird?”

“Are we talking about kinks already?” Jensen teases.

"You mean your _thing_ about my bronze medal?" Tahmoh laughs at Jensen's wide-eyed look and shakes his head. “We’ll save that for another night.”

“Looking forward to it,” Jensen mutters, setting his tablet aside. “What’s up?”

“You and Jared…” Tahmoh hesitates, and Jensen tries to be patient but his knee begins to shake. His stomach twists unpleasantly. “Have you guys ever hooked up?”

The question kicks Jensen in the chest. His response is honest and immediate. “No. No way—that’s never happened.” Tahmoh lets go of the breath he’s holding. “We’re just friends. Close friends, but you already know that.”

A vivid yet long-buried memory rises in the back of Jensen’s mind, but he ruthlessly shoves it back down.

“Jared’s straight,” Jensen tells him. Tahmoh makes a noise like he’s not sure whether he agrees or disagrees. “Why are you asking now?”

“Honestly? I’ve wondered for a while. And it’s not because I’m suspicious or anything,” Tahmoh clarifies. “It’s just that I’ve never seen a friendship like yours.”

Jensen’s nervous to ask, “Is it a problem?”

“Of course not.” Tahmoh grabs the front of Jensen’s hoodie and pulls him close. Jensen holds his tense frame for only a heartbeat before accepting the kiss for the apology that it is. 

“I envy what you guys have,” he continues, arms keeping Jensen within reach of his lips. “I don’t have anyone like that.”

Jensen runs his fingers along the sharp cut of Tahmoh’s jaw, light brown scruff tickling his skin. He maps those strong cheekbones before leaning in again. 

Their kisses wander. Tahmoh’s lips brush over his cheek before closing around the shell of Jensen’s ear, warm puffs teasing sensitive cartilage. Jensen clings to Tahmoh’s shoulders throughout the sensual assault, deep breaths knocking hard against his ribcage. When he gets the chance to turn the tables, he takes it, catching Tahmoh behind the legs and flipping him down onto his back. The bare skin between Tahmoh’s collarbones begs to be marked, and that’s where Jensen’s lips fall.

Fortunately the couch is big enough for men their size. (Jared used to complain about not being able to fit on Jensen’s old sofa—he was ecstatic when Jensen asked him to help pick out a new one.)

Suddenly Jensen remembers what prompted this make-out session. He straightens his arms and raises himself up as far as he can without actually moving off Tahmoh. His cock throbs at the sudden withdrawal of pressure. 

“What would you have done if I said yes?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” Tahmoh admits, voice barely above a whisper. “I wouldn’t have been upset. Part of me assumed that you and Jared had that kind of history, too. I figured things didn’t work out and you decided you were better off as friends.”

“Lucky for you.”

“Mmm yes, I’m a very lucky boyfriend.”

Realizing what he’s said, Tahmoh stiffens. Jensen could let the moment pass to give them more time to deal with the slip, but he’s unable to ignore the swell of emotion rising.

“Boyfriend, huh?”

Tahmoh turns his face into the couch cushion. “I knew you weren’t gonna let that go.”

Jensen draws Tahmoh’s gaze back to his own. “Is that what you want?”

“I don’t want to see anyone else.” Tahmoh’s pale eyes are clear and focused, speaking more to Jensen’s heart than the words themselves. “I was going to bring it up this weekend.”

“Should I wait until then before I say yes?”

Evidently not. Tahmoh’s hands grip the back of Jensen’s neck and draw him into the kind of kiss that speaks volumes. Deep and confident, this kiss leaves nothing to chance or misunderstanding. Jensen returns it eagerly, tongue dancing along Tahmoh’s as their bodies respond to the mounting sensations. 

Jensen wants this no matter what doubts still remain in the back of his mind. He may be over-romanticizing, but Tahmoh has brought a new kind of light into his life over the last month. He wasn’t unhappy before their blind date, but loneliness was beginning to weigh on him. Jensen doesn’t know what his life would be like right now if Jared hadn’t brought them together.

 _Jared_. He’s the last person Jensen wants to think about right now. He throws up a wall in his mind, leaving Jared and what happened at the gym on the other side. Tonight is about Tahmoh and the acknowledgement of something special.

Tahmoh protests when Jensen moves to roll off the couch.

“Where are you going?”

“To make sure that there’s nothing preventing us from spending the rest of the night in my bedroom.”

Tahmoh concedes the point. His hips knock into Jensen’s as they get to their feet; Jensen feels the hard line of his erection behind the layers of denim and cotton. 

“I need to grab my bag from the car.”

“You were thinking ahead.”

“I did ask if I could spend the night,” Tahmoh points out.

Jensen locks up the house as soon as Tahmoh returns with his overnight bag.

“I’ll take care of the leftovers,” Tahmoh offers, dropping his bag by the counter. “You go relax.”

Unable to argue with an offer like that, Jensen heads upstairs. His desire surges with every step he takes towards the bedroom. It’s hardly the first time they’ve been together in Jensen’s bed, but he knows tonight is different. Arousal outweighs his nerves, both making it difficult for Jensen to concentrate on getting ready for bed.

After grabbing a specific pair of boxer briefs from his dresser (nothing wrong with wanting to show off), Jensen steps into his bathroom. He brushes his teeth and pulls a bottle of mouthwash from deep in the bathroom cabinet for good measure. He took a shower at the gym (fortunate enough to finish before Jared and Tahmoh walked in after their cool down routines, otherwise both men would’ve seen just how affected Jensen was after his workout). He washes his face anyway hoping the cool water will take some of the color out of his cheeks. 

He pulls open the middle drawer and grabs the box of condoms he bought last week. No telling yet whether or not they’ll make it that far tonight—Jensen’s already wound up and ready to spring—but he’s prepared either way.

There’s a gentle knock at the bathroom door. “Falling asleep in there?”

“Be right out.” Jensen strips out of everything but his t-shirt and trades soft boxers for the form-fitting boxer-briefs. He checks himself out in the bathroom mirror, approving of the way the stretchy fabric flatters his ass. Just in case that’s Tahmoh’s objective.

Tahmoh’s slouched against the wall when Jensen steps out.

“Damn,” he curses, eyeing Jensen from head to toe. “My boyfriend is ridiculously hot.”

“Gonna keep me waiting?” Jensen asks, nodding towards the bag at Tahmoh’s feet.

“Not if I can help it.” He leans down for a kiss. Feeling playful, Jensen ducks out of the way and avoids Tahmoh’s hands.

“Don’t take too long.”

Heeding Jensen’s warning, Tahmoh disappears into the bathroom. Jensen sets the condoms on the nightstand. Deciding that might be presumptuous, he moves them to the drawer with the lube. _Fuck it_. He reconsiders and pulls both out.

Jensen pulls the comforter and sheet back from the head of the bed. Lying down, he gets comfortable against the pillows and does his best to relax. The thought of what might happen when Tahmoh comes out of the bathroom is enough to bring Jensen to hardness, and he rubs himself through his underwear to encourage blood flow in the right direction.

Patience is not something Jensen possesses in great quantities on a good day. Tonight, it’s nonexistent. He’s desperate for Tahmoh to join him, about to get up and barge into the bathroom to ravish him then and there.

The door opens seconds before Jensen hauls himself to his feet. He’s ready to tease Tahmoh for taking so long, but he promptly chokes on his own words.

Jensen has seen Tahmoh naked; he’s seen him aroused. But staring at him like this takes his sexiness to another level. Tahmoh stands in the doorway without a single piece of clothing on his Olympic medal-winning body. His cock is fully hard between his legs, thick with blood. Jensen could drop to his knees then and there to thank the universe for bringing this man into his life.

Tahmoh waits for his reaction, but Jensen’s speechless. He can’t stop staring at those hipbones and the smooth skin over them where Jensen enjoys laying his mouth. The valley between his abs where Jensen’s fingers like to walk. The rounded mass of his shoulders where Jensen’s teeth have left countless marks during moments of passion when he’d otherwise be screaming.

“Is all that for me?” Jensen asks when his tongue unknots itself.

Tahmoh stalks forward. “If you want it.” He crawls onto the bed, all grace and power compared to Jensen who lies there like prey.

Don’t mind him. He’s just the idiot still wearing clothes. 

“Do I get to decide what I want to do with it?”

Straddling Jensen’s thighs, Tahmoh shakes his head. “I had an idea,” he says. “I thought I could do all the work tonight.”

Tahmoh takes one of Jensen’s hands and guides it around to his ass, letting Jensen’s fingers grope and knead their way in between until he feels the artificially slick and stretched skin around his entrance.

Robbed of breath, Jensen manages to ask, “Are you fucking kidding me right now?” A primal urge to claim has him pressing two of his fingers into Tahmoh, finding more lube and slippery walls. The lack of resistance means Tahmoh didn’t waste his time in the bathroom. 

“You don’t need to do that,” Tahmoh mutters, dropping his chin, yet he sinks ever so slightly onto Jensen’s fingers when he pushes them deeper. 

“You want me to fuck you?” Jensen is so turned on, he doesn’t know how he’s going to survive this.

“Figured that was pretty obvious, Jen. I meant what I said—I don’t mind doing all the work.”

He strips Jensen so they’re both naked, knees and elbows knocking together because Jensen can’t stand not touching Tahmoh for even a moment. Tahmoh uses his albatross-like reach to grab the supplies from the nightstand, sliding a condom down Jensen’s cock before applying a generous amount of lube. It’s impossible for Jensen’s cock to get any harder. Tahmoh torments him with several twisting strokes.

Jensen looks down between their bodies to where Tahmoh’s cock is leaking precome and licks his lips.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to—”

Tahmoh kisses the offer from his mouth, tongue tracing the seam before pressing inside. 

“That’s a really nice offer, but I don’t think I can last through one of your blowjobs. And that’s more of a compliment to your skills than an insult to my stamina.”

Jensen smirks. “Flatterer.”

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he adds, words trailing off into a whine as the head of Jensen’s cock flirts with his slicked hole. “Can I?”

Jensen manages to nod before his brain is overloaded with one sensation after another. Tahmoh’s sure hand gripping his cock steady as he lowers himself. Maddening constriction as the head slips through the ring of muscle to start the slow slide into Tahmoh’s body. Relief when he’s fully seated, hands swinging up to grab Tahmoh’s face and pull him into a kiss. No movement yet, only pressure—a chance for them to savor the way they fit together, filling and taking, while they write their desires into each kiss.

“Jen,” Tahmoh gasps, breaking away, “I’ve gotta move.”

Jensen has no problem with that. His head hits the pillows with a feathery _thump_ when Tahmoh starts to ride him, muscle-bound thighs flexing with every thrust. True to his word, most of the effort belongs to Tahmoh. He controls the pace, the depth, the pressure, and Jensen doesn’t care because it’s all _fucking perfect_. Jensen could easily become addicted to being worshipped like this; he vows to give as good as he’s getting the next time they fuck.

He melts under Tahmoh’s attention, his cock held tight as Tahmoh drops his hips over and over. Tangling his fingers in the sheets isn't nearly as satisfying as he wants it to be, so he grips Tahmoh's thighs, kneading and flexing each time Tahmoh comes down. The dull _slap_ of skin hitting skin fills the bedroom accompanied by Tahmoh’s ragged panting and the moans Jensen’s unable to pin behind his teeth.

Eventually, Tahmoh has Jensen so wound up with pleasure, he has to touch the man's cock before he succumbs to insanity. With one hand, he takes possession of Tahmoh’s bouncing erection, more than enough sweat and precome to make his stokes frictionless, while the other grabs Tahmoh behind the neck and draws him down.

“I can tell you’re close,” he pants, breath hitting Tahmoh’s cheek. There’s just enough room between their stomachs for Jensen to continue working his cock. Tahmoh’s chest vibrates as he tries to hold in a moan. “I want to feel you come with me inside you.”

Jensen’s never had a problem being vocal in bed, unwilling to censor himself when he feels the words on his tongue. He doesn’t need Tahmoh to respond in kind, but he’s pleased when Tahmoh arches against him, clearly affected.

“C’mon, ‘Moh. Let me feel it. You’re so _fucking_ tight around me, driving me crazy…”

That’s all it takes. Tahmoh roars when he comes, sound hitting the walls and coming back to strike Jensen right in the chest. Before Tahmoh loses all sensation, Jensen draws from the last of his waning strength and flips them, driving his cock back into Tahmoh’s slick opening with no resistance. With Tahmoh’s body still riding the wave of orgasm, rippling around Jensen’s cock, it’s a matter of seconds before Jensen fills the condom, elbows shaking so bad he almost collapses on top of his boyfriend.

Tahmoh doesn’t appear to mind, arms winding around Jensen’s back.

“Was that my reward for going to the gym?” Jensen asks once he’s caught his breath. “If so, I can see myself working out a lot from now on.”

“If that’s the motivation you need…”

They’re tempted to lie there and bask, but clean-up trumps the afterglow. Afterward, Jensen barely makes it back to the bed before his legs give out, muscles one hundred percent done after everything he’s put them through tonight. Tahmoh slips between the sheets beside him, rolling one of Jensen’s pillows and tucking it behind his neck. Jensen can’t resist his pull. He falls asleep rolled against Tahmoh’s side, one arm over his chest.

**~~~**

In the morning, Tahmoh tries to slip out of bed without making a sound. Jensen must notice the shift of the mattress, because when opens his eyes expecting to see weak sunlight slanting into his bedroom, he's greeted by the dull halogen tones of the streetlight cutting through the darkness.

"I can get out through the garage," Tahmoh says quietly. "You don't need to get up." 

Jensen communicates back in low non-verbal tones. Thankfully, Tahmoh gets the message.

"I'll text you after practice."

He sends Jensen back to sleep with a weightless kiss and closes the bedroom door behind him. 

Jensen drifts in and out of shallow dreams for the next hour before he gives up on anything significant. 

He thinks back to the night before. Not the spine-melting sex or the way it felt to fall asleep with his new boyfriend beside him, but all the way back to Tahmoh's question earlier in the evening. He never said it, but Jensen wonders if Tahmoh saw what happened at the gym last night. Jensen’s the first to admit that there was nothing innocent about the moment he and Jared shared, but Tahmoh’s timely appearance prevented the tension from turning into something none of them would be able to brush aside.

Jensen didn’t lie to Tahmoh: he and Jared have never hooked up. The guilt he feels stems from the memory he smothered last night. It occupies a hole dug deep in Jensen’s mind, buried there years ago for the sake of his friendship with Jared, but he can’t help brushing off the dirt and thinking about it now...

> “Don’t worry, my roommate had to work tonight,” Jensen says as he leads the man into the apartment he shares with his best friend. 
> 
> They’ve barely been able to keep their hands off each other on the five-minute walk from the bar to Jensen’s place, and that continues while Jensen tries to lock the door and toe off his shoes at the same time. Once that’s accomplished, he spins the man towards the sofa, clothes shed along the way. Jensen has no patience for drawn-out foreplay tonight. He craves what this man’s mouth promised him back at the bar: his lips around Jensen’s cock. The cheap couch creaks under their combined weight when they fall back onto it. Jensen holds the man’s head in his lap and thrusts, no thought to be gentle and the man all but demands the rough treatment. It’s not perfect, and it’s not what Jensen usually prefers. It is what he needs tonight.
> 
> When he’s close to coming, Jensen rubs one of his nipples in an attempt to sweeten the encounter. The man has a decent mouth, wet and firm and eager to take Jensen all the way down. His tongue swipes over a particularly sensitive spot and Jensen drops his head against the back of the couch. Opening his eyes, he glances towards the kitchen and feels his heart freeze in his chest.
> 
> Standing beside the counter, Jared stares back.
> 
> Breath stalls in Jensen’s lungs. The man on his knees takes it as a sign that he’s ready to come and doubles his efforts. Unable to speak beneath the weight of Jared’s stare, Jensen’s body takes what it needs, thrusting until he spills in quick spasms. The man never pulls off, just as Jensen’s eyes never leave Jared’s face. It’s too dark to make out his expression, but there’s no mistaking the placement of Jared’s hand over his dick.
> 
> Finally spent, Jensen opens his mouth to say something—he has a troubling feeling that nothing he says would help the situation. Jared has turned from him, long legs taking him down the hall towards his bedroom. Jensen picks up on the soft, telltale creak of Jared’s door shutting; the man between his legs notices nothing.
> 
> The next morning, Jensen wakes up early and makes an extra-large pot of coffee. After the blowjob, Jensen saw the man off after a quick handjob to return the favor. No plans were made to see one another again. All Jensen could think about was Jared.
> 
> His roommate shuffles into the kitchen still wiping sleep from his eyes. Minutes silently tick by as Jared pours himself a cup of coffee with his back to Jensen. Eventually, he takes a deep breath and turns around.
> 
> “Sorry about last night, man.”
> 
> “I thought you were working.”
> 
> “Ivy called me at the last minute begging me to switch shifts with her,” Jared explains, “so I’m working tonight instead.”
> 
> “Oh,” Jensen says inadequately.
> 
> “Yeah, um...so I didn’t mean to, you know, last night.” Jared gestures towards the sofa.
> 
> Heat rushes to Jensen’s cheeks. “I’ll take it to my room next time.”
> 
> Jared waves off the suggestion. “I should’ve said something when I heard you come in. Or, hell, not stood there and watched.”
> 
> “Why did you?”
> 
> “Couldn’t help it,” Jared says casually. “No offense, but it was kinda hot seeing that guy blow you. Was he any good?”
> 
> “Jared—”
> 
> “Right, sorry.” Jared holds his hands up. “Looked like you were enjoying it though.” Jensen might burst into flames, he’s so embarrassed. Jared keeps pouring fuel on the fire. “Had to take care of myself after seeing that, you know what I mean?”
> 
> He pictures Jared rushing into his room, shoving his pajama pants down until he’s able to wrap one of his big hands around his dick. Would he go slowly, draw out his pleasure? Or would he fuck his hand with a purpose, so aroused after seeing Jensen that all he needs are a few rough strokes before…
> 
> Oh God. Jensen is actually going to die. 
> 
> He digs his blunt fingernails into the meat of his palm, hoping the pain will interrupt the flow of blood down to his dick. He will not get turned on in their damn kitchen.
> 
> “Are you bi?” Jensen’s genuinely curious. He’s only witnessed Jared being sexually interested in women. After what he saw last night, he might need to reexamine the evidence.
> 
> Jared shrugs. “I don’t think so. I mean, yeah I was turned on—who wouldn’t be? I don’t suddenly want to, like, go out and hook up with any guys right now.”
> 
> Jensen pretends to be relieved. It’s easier than trying to figure out where his disappointment is coming from.
> 
> “Good,” he says, “‘cause I don’t need you out there stealing my dates. I’ve got enough competition on this campus as it is.”
> 
> “Shut up, Jen,” Jared teases, slapping him on the back of the shoulder as he leaves the kitchen to get dressed. “You know you’re still the prettiest.”

The man Jensen brought home was forgotten soon after the incident—his face and name lost to the passing of time. Jensen remembers the rest like it was yesterday.

By the time he’s finished reliving the memory, the sun is assaulting Jensen’s eyes and the alarm on his phone forces him to roll out of bed. He sets one foot on the floor and nearly collapses. 

Everything hurts. 

_Fuck it_. This is why Jensen never goes to the gym.

**~~~**

“Congratulations!” Jensen draws Boyd into a one-armed hug after he finishes telling Jensen about proposing to his longtime girlfriend the night before. “You’re a lucky man. Erica’s awesome.”

“I knew she’d say yes, but that didn’t stop me from sweating it all night.”

Usually a quiet man, Boyd’s been a fountain of excited words ever since Jensen stepped into the teacher’s lounge during his free period.

“Erica doesn’t want a long engagement,” Boyd tells him. “Between last night and this morning she already picked out the venue, the photographer, and the caterer.”

“Just leave it all up to her,” Jensen suggests. His sister had single-handedly planned their older brother’s wedding and her own within a span of less than two years. He’s well aware that men just get in the way. “It’s gonna be great.”

“You’re definitely invited. I hear you’re dating someone now, too.”

Jensen startles. “How’d you hear about that?”

“Jared mentioned setting you guys up on a blind date,” Boyd tells him. “Is it serious?”

“Yeah, Tahmoh’s my boyfriend now—”

Something ceramic _clunks_ against the counter in the lounge’s kitchenette. Jared sticks his head around the cabinets. Jensen shakes his head. What is it with his best friend and hiding in fucking kitchens? Seriously.

“Sorry, dropped my mug,” Jared says, holding up the offending item.

“I didn’t know you were back there.”

“Needed some caffeine. Worked it a little too hard at the gym last night—couldn’t get much sleep.”

Jensen swallows. Boyd doesn’t pick up on the static between his fellow teachers.

Jared finds his voice once Boyd’s gone. “Guess I need to congratulate you, too. You and Tahmoh made it official, huh? That’s great.”

He looks and sounds genuine. Jensen has a hard time finding something that would give Jared away. He finally sees it in the white-knuckled grip Jared’s got on his mug.

“It just kind of happened,” Jensen admits like nothing’s wrong. If he stays the course, maybe everything will go back to normal. “Tahmoh didn’t mean to bring it up, but I was happy that he did. It’s been official in my mind for a while now anyway.”

“So I bet you didn’t get much sleep last night either,” Jared teases, taking the same road to denial as Jensen. “Are you sore?”

“Why would you—”

“From the _gym_ , Jen. Your legs probably feel like slow-drying cement right now.”

Their workout. Right. “Kinda feels like my entire body is bruised.”

“Work through it a little bit tonight,” Jared suggests. “Lots of stretching and maybe a light run, nothing strenuous. Just enough to keep your muscles loose.”

The thought of more exercise makes Jensen want to cry. He nods. “Feel like hanging out tonight?”

“You and Tahmoh aren’t going out to celebrate?”

“He’s driving down to Monroe after practice tonight for a regional coaches meeting in the morning, so I’m free to do whatever.”

“Put me down as a definite maybe,” Jared says, grinning. He pours himself some coffee before offering the carafe to Jensen.

Jensen texts Jared throughout the afternoon during lunch and between classes, and they agree to meet at Troubadour’s to catch up on work before anything else. He’s thought up a whole evening’s worth of potential plans. When he asks Jared to come over for pizza and a movie, Jared claims he has to grade assignments from the previous week.

“Go for a jog, do _not_ eat pizza, and text me later. Okay?”

There’s nothing Jensen can do so he agrees, but he doesn’t feel good about it. A quick jog around his neighborhood does make him feel a little bit better (especially since he didn’t think his legs were going to cooperate) and he texts Jared a quick thanks before he orders a pizza—about which he definitely does not text Jared or Tahmoh.

 **Told you so** , Jared texts back, and that’s the last time Jensen hears from him for the rest of the night.

The next morning, Jared calls out sick.

**~~~**

Over the next few weeks, Jensen’s life is a progression of highs and low, both personally and professionally.

Four of his favorite students are accepted into Ivy League schools, while another loses their mother to breast cancer and is forced to move away to live with his father and stepmother. Tahmoh is there for Jensen after the funeral, countering the sadness with the story of his teammate’s full recovery from testicular cancer. Jared, along with several other teachers, attends the funeral, but he begs off plans for the same night.

Once Jensen’s muscles have recovered from the initial strain, Tahmoh convinces him to visit the gym again. Slowly but surely, he’s starting to enjoy the workouts, thanks in no small part to being able to watch his ridiculously hot boyfriend work out at the same time. Jensen fends off any desirous glances with well-timed displays of affection.

Jensen’s never dated a man who’s so comfortable showing affection in public, and he seizes opportunities to touch his boyfriend. Tahmoh is the complete opposite of Aiden, who refused to let anyone find out he liked guys. Jensen adores how Tahmoh is always willing to show Jensen how he feels, whether they're with other people or alone in a world of two. The only other person Jensen’s ever been that affectionate with is Jared.

“I’d tell you if I didn’t like it,” Tahmoh promises when Jensen asks him about it. “I grew up with my team, you know? I had to get comfortable being around so many people. Are _you_ comfortable with it?” he asks. “I’m willing to keep my hands to myself if that’s what you prefer.”

Jensen’s kiss is the equivalent of saying _don’t you dare_.

One of the reasons Jensen doesn’t say no to the gym—one he won’t admit to Tahmoh—is that it’s one of the few times he can see Jared outside of Hallgrove. He’s not always there, but it’s enough to keep Jensen from sinking too severely into best friend withdrawal. Unlike the first gym visit, however, Tahmoh is the only one getting up close and personal with Jensen when he tries a new machine. Probably for the best. Jensen continues to watch Jared, though, ready to pounce if he shows any sign of wanting to talk about what’s gotten him so unnerved lately.

Tahmoh cautions him. “He knows you’ll be there for him,” he tells Jensen as they’re sitting in his car. Again, Jared snuck out of the gym without saying goodbye to either of them. “He must not be ready to open up about whatever it is.”

“But you’re worried, too. Right?”

Tahmoh assures Jensen that he is. Jared’s been responding to texts that Tahmoh sends him. His answer’s always the same whenever Tahmoh brings up potential plans. 

Jared continues to visit Jensen’s classroom once a week to share a takeout lunch. Fearful of saying something that might cause Jared to pull further away, Jensen keeps the conversation superficial. Jared asks about Tahmoh. Jensen assumes he’s trying to be polite. He has a strange feeling that Tahmoh is involved in whatever is affecting Jared.

He even invites Jensen to meet him at Troubadour’s for coffee and mutual procrastination. Sitting at their favorite table, poking fun at each other’s drinks, everything feels like it’s back to normal. Jensen’s merely a guy hanging out with his best friend, thinking about what he’s going to do when he sees his boyfriend later that night. When it’s time to leave, Jared’s mood is darker than the coffee Jensen drinks. It makes Jensen want to kidnap him, take him home—at least then he’d be able to keep an eye on Jared, see what the hell’s going on.

He lets Jared go, smile feeling false on his face, and calls Tahmoh on the way home.

Less than a week later, one of Tahmoh’s friends invites them to the VIP opening of his new bar. When Tahmoh picks him up for the upscale affair, Jensen reconsiders going. Wearing a sleek gray suit over a crisp white shirt, Tahmoh looks edible. His collar’s open so Jensen can see the edge of a bruise he left below his scapula the night before.

“Think your friend will mind if we’re a little late?” Jensen asks. Tahmoh grins and follows Jensen back into the house.

They do arrive late, but Tahmoh’s friend Jamie doesn’t seem to mind. The handsome, wavy-haired bar owner greets Tahmoh with a back-slapping hug, welcomes Jensen with a firm handshake.

“Tahmoh’s told me a lot about you,” Jamie says, blue eyes sparkling. Like Tahmoh, Jamie’s voice carries the hint of an accent. “You two enjoy yourselves tonight, alright? For you, it’s all on the house.”

Jensen can see himself coming back to Jamie’s place in the future. The vibe is definitely gay-friendly, though there are more than a few women amongst the VIPs wearing clothing and jewelry that probably costs more than Jensen’s yearly salary. He and Tahmoh enjoy craft cocktails made with freshly pressed juices and laugh with the other guests. Little by little, the dance floor begins to fill up, and Jensen’s had just enough to drink to want to get out there.

“I won’t say no to that,” Tahmoh says when Jensen poses the idea.

The beat is heavy and seductive, not fast and frantic like some of the clubs Jensen’s hit up in the past. Everyone on the dance floor is paired up, drawn together by the music or something stronger. Jensen seeks no further than Tahmoh’s arms around his waist, his own wrapped over Tahmoh’s shoulders, completing the circle.

They sway with the music, hips brushing now and then, never more than a tease. Thanks to their pre-VIP activities, Jensen can afford to be patient. He enjoys being this close to Tahmoh, letting the weight of the last few weeks drain away. Staring into his boyfriend’s eyes, nothing but desire and admiration gazing back, Jensen’s happy.

And he has Jared to thank for it.

Jensen has fond memories of dancing in clubs with Jared, going back to a time when they lived together. Sometimes they went out with the intent of getting laid—other times they were too restless to stay in their apartment and study. They always had fun whether they flew as wingmen for one another or just let loose for the night.

Jared was a great dancer, graceful despite his height and general ridiculousness. When Jared _was_ aiming to hook up, he never had a problem finding a willing partner. Jensen preferred the kind of night when all he and Jared wanted was a release from the pressures of grad school or job searches or teaching. Those were the nights he had Jared all to himself; his best friend would shrug and say he wasn’t interested in meeting anyone, dancing long past midnight, holding Jensen against his solid, sweaty chest whenever someone attempted to come between them.

Those were _good_ nights when they let the alcohol mellow their stress until they cared about nothing but each other. Jensen used to wonder why Jared was willing to give up the near-guarantee of sex to dance with him. He put it down to the bond of best friends and more than a few beers.

Tonight, the chest pressed against his back is just as solid, albeit not as sweaty. Tahmoh’s lips at his ear bring him back into the moment.

“We should go dancing more often,” he says. The beat downshifts to a slower throb and he leans closer. Other couples do the same until the dance floor is a gently moving wave. “You’re unbelievably sexy when you dance.”

 _You should see Jared_ , he wants to say.

Later, after Tahmoh drives them back to the house and they succumb to the fire that dancing ignited in the privacy of Jensen’s bedroom, Jensen revisits the memories of nights out with Jared. The wild fun they used to have; the way they didn’t need anyone outside of one another to have a good time, no matter where they were.

In that moment, with Tahmoh sleeping beside him, Jensen vows to do whatever it takes to show Jared that he loves him, values him, and desperately misses his presence. He has to try, because Jared is worth it.

Jensen puts his plan into action the next day at Hallgrove. When he finds Jared in the lounge before first period, Jensen teases him about the lavender shirt he’s wearing.

“Does that shirt smell as pretty as it looks?”

“What’s wrong with it?” Jared asks, pouring a cup of coffee. He takes Jensen’s mug and starts filling it without asking. “The guy at the store said it was a hot new color.”

“For babies’ rooms and nail polish,” Jensen counters. “You look like a Hallmark sympathy card.”

“So you’re saying I’m sensitive and poetic?”

Jensen laughs, touches Jared’s arm while he prepares Jensen’s coffee exactly the way he likes it, and asks Jared if he received Erica and Boyd’s ‘Save the Date’ card yet.

It’s a start.

He tries to be more affectionate, flirting with Jared the way he used to before he started dating Tahmoh. Back when he never gave it a second thought—it was just the way they were. He invites Jared to dinner, to the movies, to coffee, accepting whatever excuse Jared gives him with a smile and a promise that they’ll go out _some other time_. Only Tahmoh sees how disappointed Jensen is whenever Jared turns him down.

His persistence pays off a week later when Jared texts Jensen and Tahmoh about a new restaurant near his place. They’re seated on the wide patio, colorful umbrellas shielding their skin from the late afternoon sun while they split a bottle of red wine—Jared’s choice—and a plate of Thai-spiced wings.

It’s exactly how Jensen used to imagine them spending time together after he started dating Tahmoh. Just the three of them. Jensen doesn’t want to explore _why_ , but he’s always assumed that Jared would be wherever he was, no significant other in the picture.

The only odd moment comes after they’ve eaten. There’s a little wine left in each of their glasses when Jensen excuses himself to go to the men’s room, leaving Jared and Tahmoh talking about the new equipment being installed at their gym. When Jensen returns, he sees his boyfriend and his best friend turned towards one another, closer than they were sitting when Jensen walked away. Tahmoh’s hand rests on Jared’s shoulder, his head bowed while he listens to what Tahmoh is saying.

Whatever is passing between them must be serious. Jensen hasn’t seen Jared’s expression this flat all night. Tahmoh’s gaze is soft and sympathetic, but his other hand is clenched tightly on his lap underneath the table. Jared mutters something too low for Jensen to overhear, causing Tahmoh to shake his head and squeeze Jared’s shoulder. Jensen wants to know what they’re saying, why their expressions are so deflated, and their gestures cautious. 

They pull apart before Jensen can read anything else from their body language, and the two of them are nothing but smiles when Jensen gets back to the table.

**~~~**

“Please tell me that I’m not the worst role model in history." Even over the phone, Jensen can hear the frustration in Tahmoh's voice.

Jensen switches his phone from his right to left hand. “I think it’s actually pretty smart of you. I know exactly what high school students are capable of when left alone in hotel rooms on an overnight trip.”

“I’m just waiting for a parent to call the school because their kid ratted me out.”

“I don’t think any of your swimmers would admit to getting condoms from their swim coach,” Jensen tells Tahmoh. “And you’re not the one handing them out, right?”

“I gave them to Nolan and Trix,” he says. Jensen knows those are the captains of the boys’ and girls’ teams, respectively. “I trust them.”

“Even if someone did tell their parents, it’s a hell of a lot better than a parent figuring out their son or daughter had unprotected sex during a swim meet trip.” 

He hears Tahmoh sigh. “You’re right, thanks.”

It’s been almost a full day since Jensen spoke to his boyfriend courtesy of the regional swim meet taking Tahmoh out of town for a few days. Jensen doesn’t envy him or Felicia (along with two other assistant coaches and four parent chaperones) having to keep an eye on nearly fifty swimmers for three days and two nights. He was happy to see Tahmoh’s name and photo pop up on his caller ID while he was grading pop quizzes.

Tahmoh tells him about the bus ride and having to share pool space with three other Class A teams during a limited practice session. A group of swim parents that drove up with the caravan were nice enough to arrange a casual buffet dinner in one of the hotel’s conference rooms for the whole team, saving Tahmoh from figuring out how to feed fifty carbo-loading high school students.

“So everyone’s in their rooms?”

“They should be,” Tahmoh mutters. “Curfew was twenty minutes ago. I’ll roam around in fifteen minutes or so, make sure no one’s trying to sneak out.”

“How about I help you relax a little ‘til then?” Jensen offers. He discovered his kink for phone sex when he was dating Aiden, but it’s been years since he’s done it with anyone and he’s eager to put rusty skills to use.

“Wow.” Tahmoh sounds breathless. “Are you kidding with me?”

“Not at all, I really want–”

Jensen’s phone vibrates against his cheek. When sees Jared’s name flashing on the screen, his heart immediately skips a beat.

“Hey Moh? Jared’s calling me.”

“Do you need to answer it?”

“I do. He always texts—he hates calling people.”

Tahmoh sounds hopeful. “Call me back later?”

“Definitely.”

Jensen quickly accepts Jared’s call before he’s redirected into voicemail.

“Jared?”

“I need you t’come pick me up.” His voice is slow, like he’s trying to enunciate, but heavily slurred.

Jensen is already on his feet, quizzes falling to the floor. “What happened? Where are you?”

“Mack took m’keys,” Jared whines. “I don’t wanna take a cab.”

“Mack?” Jensen only knows one guy named Mack—a bartender at one of clubs Jensen and Jared used to hit up together. Decent guy, but ugly as sin. “Are you at Diamond Hill?”

Jared makes a sound that could be construed as a _yes_. “Mack’s such n’asshole, he—hey!” There’s a scuffle on the line before Jensen hears a different voice. “Is this Jensen?” Mack’s smoker’s growl is easy to recognize. “Jared’s had a few too many to drive, and he won’t let me call him a cab. You mind coming to get him?”

“It’s only 10:30. How long has he been there?”

“Since 7:00. Came in just after we opened. Gotta say I was surprised to see him,” Mack says. “Though a few of his guys were pretty happy to see him again.”

Jensen pauses as he’s reaching for his car keys. “Wait. What guys?”

“Drinking buddies. A couple of ‘em that he used to hook up with, I think.”

Jensen’s entire body goes cold. He stays on the phone long enough to tell Mack he’ll be there as soon as he can and not to let Jared leave. The only thing that keeps Jensen from losing it in the car on the way over are the deep, even breaths he forces on himself.

**~~~**

“Help me out here, man,” Jensen groans, attempting to kick his front door shut with 200 pounds hanging on his shoulder. (Thank god for those gym sessions.) When he manages that, he shuffles as quickly as he can towards the couch where he dumps Jared.

Jensen pins his rant behind his teeth in favor of bringing Jared a bottle of water and two ibuprofen. Sitting on the coffee table, he spends a few moments watching the rise and fall of Jared’s chest.

Diamond Hill—just the Hill to most of its customers—has a certain reputation. No one went to the Hill for their drink selection. You went there to get laid.

Walking in triggered a cascade of hazy memories. Jared never let Jensen go to the Hill alone; it didn’t matter whether he was looking for a date to take home or something as simple and mindless as decent head in the men’s room. Sometimes Jared found a hook-up, too—the Hill wasn’t strictly a gay scene—but he mostly went to make sure Jensen made it home alright.

Why Jared went there tonight, Jensen has no idea. He’d changed since the last time Jensen saw him at Hallgrove. Slacks traded for worn jeans—Jensen knew that pair in particular was threadbare around the back—and button-down switched out for a faded band t-shirt that used to fit Jared before he started hitting the gym so much.

It was an outfit Jensen might’ve worn back in the day when he was looking to let off a little steam. Seeing it on Jared, Jensen wanted to grab him by the scruff of his neck and drag him out of the club. How _dare_ he come to a sleazy place like this? And what the hell was he looking for dressed like that?

This brought Jensen back to what Mack told him over the phone.

“What’s going on with you, Jay…” Jensen whispers, fingers playing with a loose thread of worn denim over Jared’s knee. Given that Jared doesn’t seem to recognize where he is, Jensen assumes he’s talking to himself. He’s surprised when Jared starts to mutter.

“‘s this your couch, Jen?”

“Yeah, Jay. I brought you home with me.”

“Mmkay,” Jared sighs, “tha’s good. I like being here.”

“That’s good.” Jensen tries to soothe him. Pushes hair away from Jared’s face with gentle fingers. “You wanna talk about it?”

“‘bout what?”

“For starters, why were you at the Hill tonight?”

“Figured I’d meet someone,” Jared says. He rolls his face away from the cushion and accepts the water and pills. Once he’s swallowed, he blinks and looks around the room. “Moh here?”

Jensen shakes his head. “Regional meet. He won’t be back for a couple of days.”

“Won’t he mind that ‘m here?”

“Of course not,” Jensen insists. “He likes you, Jay. We’ve both missed hanging out with you.” Emotion crests over Jensen like a wave. He wants to wrap Jared in his arms and keep him right here, safe. He hangs his head, defeated, feeling like the worst friend in the world.

A wide palm settles on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jen.”

“For what?” Even to his own ears, Jensen’s voice sounds wrecked. 

“For messin’ stuff up,” he says. “For getting in the way.”

Jensen leans into Jared’s touch, their knees knocking together between the table and the couch. “You haven’t messed anything up, Jay. Why would you think that?”

“Kept you all to myself.” He hesitates as if Jensen’s supposed to know what that means. “It was good though, wasn’t it? Just you ‘n me?”

Jensen nods. 

“Things’re different now, y’know?” He’s still slurring some of his words, though his eyes have begun to clear. He looks earnestly across at Jensen. “You were spending so much time w’me, I felt bad.”

“I like spending time with you,” Jensen points out. “I always have.”

Jared smiles. “Then I got to know Moh.” He follows the nickname with a wistful sigh. “Thought I could make it up t’you.”

Jensen gasps, putting pieces together. “You set me up with Tahmoh as an apology? Jared, that’s—” He doesn’t know what to say. That it was crazy? Jensen didn’t need dates to make up for faults only Jared sees.

“It worked, didn’t it?”

For a moment Jared sounds like he hasn’t spent the majority of the night drinking at a club notorious for its easy patrons. This brings up another point…

“You said you wanted to meet someone tonight. Were you talking about a woman, or—”

Jared slumps. “Think you already know the answer.”

“A guy,” Jensen says with barely any breath in his lungs. “You wanted to hook up with a _guy_. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

Danger signs flash in Jensen’s head as he shifts from sitting on the coffee table to the couch. He ignores the warnings. Pressed against the side of Jared’s body from knee to shoulder, Jared uses Jensen as an anchor.

“I remember everything you told me ‘bout Aiden. How he never got over his confusion ‘bout whether he wanted to be with a guy or not. Stupid closeted _fuck_ ," Jared hisses. "I know how much that hurt, Jen. When y’all broke up, I swore I’d never let anyone do that t’you ever again.”

“Jared—”

“Even if that guy was me.”

Jensen’s ready when Jared falls into his arms, chest heaving. He’s not crying. More like swallowing too much air with every gasp. Jensen holds Jared until he calms, stroking one hand through his hair the way he used to when Jared had a rough night out.

He’s so thrown he can barely hold a thought in his head. Jared isn’t straight, and he never told Jensen. What’s worse, Jensen never noticed. The curiosity stabs him through the heart.

“How long?”

“Couple a’years,” Jared tells him. “Not all the time.”

The second question is more difficult. “Was there ever anyone serious?”

Jared turns his head against Jensen’s shoulder and gazes up. “Never. I liked it, but I only did it when I felt restless, or—”

He cuts himself off, but Jensen knows what he was about to say.

“Or when you were around Tahmoh and me too much. I’m so sorry, Jared. I never knew.”

“I wanted to keep it that way.” Jared attempts to sit up under his own power. He half-succeeds, swaying a bit until Jensen nudges him towards the cushions. “That’s part of the reason I set you up with Tahmoh, y’know? I knew you were kinda lonely and it was only a matter of time ‘til I caved and tried to start something.”

That sets Jensen’s thoughts swirling again. If Jared hadn’t set Tahmoh in his path, he and Jared might have—

Six months ago, Jensen would have celebrated this information. His feelings for Jared were a part of him, though he’d learned to live without thinking about them every day. He never stopped hoping that one day Jared would realize they were perfect for one another. Or that neither one of them would find a partner who loved them as all-encompassingly as they loved each other. Jared used to joke about being Jensen’s platonic life-partner; Jensen figured it was more of an actual possibility.

Until Tahmoh. Jensen’s self-aware enough to know that he’s a hair’s breadth from falling in love with the man.

The man he hasn’t so much as texted since Jared interrupted their phone call.

“Promise me you’re not gonna let this mess up your relationship with Moh,” Jared pleads, suddenly earnest. “He’s a good guy.”

“I know.”

“You’re much better for him than I would’a been.”

Jensen’s going to die right here on his own couch. “You were interested in Tahmoh?”

Jared frowns at him. “Figured you knew that. He’s the first guy who made me feel even a fraction of what I feel about you. But it was never gonna work.”

“How do you know?” Jensen has no idea why he’s encouraging this line of discussion. Is he really asking his best friend why he didn’t hook up with his boyfriend when he had the chance?

What would that have done to Jensen? Just the _thought_ of seeing Jared with a random guy brings Jensen to Hulk- _smash_ levels of rage. But knowing Tahmoh as well as he does, Jensen understands that he would’ve been good for Jared, leaving Jensen out in the cold.

And suddenly Jensen is sickeningly attuned to how Jared must’ve felt over the last few months.

 _Oh my god._

Jared never responds. With a long yawn, he drops his head against the back of the couch, eyes slipping shut. Jensen knows from experience that he’s not long for consciousness. One minute, it’ll seem like Jared has rallied—awake and engaged—and the next he’ll be asleep on the nearest horizontal surface. Sure enough, he begins to topple off the couch. Jensen grabs him before his head hits the table.

Without Tahmoh, there’s no way he’ll be able to get Jared upstairs to the guestroom on his own, but since he bought this couch with Jared in mind, he doesn’t have to fold his friend’s monster limbs to lay him out straight. After pulling off Jared’s boots and setting his watch and cell phone on the coffee table, Jensen makes a quick stop upstairs for a down comforter and a couple of squishy pillows. He’ll do what he can to make Jared comfortable in preparation for the hangover he’s bound to have tomorrow.

By the time Jensen makes it up to his own bed, it’s well past midnight. Though he's drained both physically and mentally, sleep is a long way off. Part of him wants to text Tahmoh; his phone is in his hand before he decides against it. He'd feel terrible if he woke Tahmoh up with everything he's got going on tomorrow with the swim meet. 

Jensen suffers alone, separated from the two men he cares most for in the world—one halfway across the state and the other a staircase away, yet still unreachable.

### PART FOUR

"You're still here."

Jared turns around, the coffee maker brewing noisily on the counter behind him.

"Thanks for taking care of me last night." Jared's voice shatters any apprehensions that Jensen has yet to wake up from his restless dreams. He'd tossed and turned all night, tormented by the possibility of being with Jared instead of Tahmoh.

"Pretty sure I would've felt ten times worse if you hadn't helped me out."

He leaves Jensen staring at the back of his rumpled t-shirt as he returns to making coffee. Jensen remains dumbfounded, never envisioning a scenario in which Jared was here when he woke up. Relief outweighs every other emotion, so thick in his chest that it almost hurts. 

Jensen rushes forward and Jared turns just in time to gasp, “Jen—” before Jensen throws his arms around him. Jared shifts into the embrace without hesitation, his hold tight across Jensen’s back, a double band of warmth and strength.

The school day beckons, but Jensen has no intention of letting Jared go. He wants to hold his best friend until every painful moment between them has been forgiven. Until Jensen finds a way to make up for being oblivious to Jared’s internal struggle over his sexuality.

“Hey,” Jared soothes, “whatever it is, it’s okay. I’m sorry about last n—”

“Don’t,” Jensen snaps, “you have nothing to be sorry about.”

Jared holds him tighter.

The coffee machine reaches the end of its cycle with a cheery _beep_. Jared doesn’t let go. He lifts one hand to cup the side of Jensen’s face, holding gently beneath his jaw, bringing their mouths close together. The other is an anchor between Jensen’s shoulder blades, preventing him from drifting away. And Jensen knows that Jared’s about to kiss him.

Jensen has witnessed this before. In the darkness under flashing strobe lights and in the full light of the sun, with women who meant something to Jared and women he collided with for only a moment on the dance floor. He’s watched Jared guiding open, desperate mouths together, pressing himself into a kiss like he can’t get close enough. Deep and full of feeling, no matter how he felt about the woman he was kissing.

Over the years, Jensen found a way to deny and ignore the envy he felt when Jared kissed a woman. (Honestly, Jensen doesn’t think he would have survived seeing Jared kiss another guy back then.) Now it all comes rushing back. He wants to be the sole focus of Jared’s attention, the center-point of his universe. He yearns to cross the line he himself had drawn in the sand back when Jared’s sexuality wasn’t in question.

But he _can’t_.

“Jay—”

Jensen hears the break in his own voice. Jared’s eyes never leave his as he steps out of the embrace. Absent their breathing and the rumbling of the coffee machine, the kitchen is quiet until Jared tries to apologize again.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Stop,” Jensen says, “I meant it before. You have nothing to apologize for, okay?”

Jensen attempts to break the awkwardness by starting in on breakfast. Neither of them should be going to work with nothing but coffee burning in their stomachs. There’s also the issue of Jared’s clothes. He won’t have time to run to his place before work, meaning they’ll have to get creative with what’s in Jensen’s closet.

Because those jeans he wore last night are _not_ proper work attire.

They manage to get ready and out the door on time, settling on ‘safe’ topics like their students and needing a new refrigerator for the teacher’s lounge.

After school, Jensen drives Jared to the Hill so he can pick up his car. Jared's wearing the shirt he picked out of Jensen's closet that morning—gray with a hint of a shimmer, something his parents gave him for Christmas which he hasn't worn yet—even though Jensen knows he usually keeps at least one spare hanging up in his classroom closet. Jensen refuses to name the feeling he gets when he sees how good Jared looks wearing it. 

As they pull up next to Jared's car, Jensen asks, "Do you want to get together later?" Jared looks over, eyes wide. "I don't mean—not like that," he clarifies in a rush. "Tahmoh's at regionals for another night. I thought you might wanna hang out like we used to."

"I don't think I can."

It's difficult not to be frustrated; Jensen thought they might be past this. "Jared, come on..."

"I'm not avoiding you, Jen. I promise. It's not like the past few months."

"Then just come over," Jensen pleads. "Or we can go to the gym if that's what you want. I don't care. I miss spending time with you."

Jared's smile is the worth the embarrassment of admitting something so sappy. "Jen, I'm exhausted. Your couch is fine, but I didn't sleep well. I need to go home, take another shower."

"This has nothing to do with what you said last night?"

Jared sighs. "A little," he admits. "Things are hard enough without adding that kind of temptation. I don't want to make things difficult for you."

Jensen should insist there's no issue because he'd never do anything to hurt Tahmoh, but he can't. 

"Things are gonna get better now that you know...well, now that everything's out in the open. I just need some time to figure things out, okay?"

Though he's disappointed to be going home alone, Jensen is hopeful. They're going to be alright. 

When Jensen gets home, he pulls out his phone and watches all the videos Tahmoh sent throughout the day: clips of his swimmers winning races and receiving medals on the podium. The last one is a video Tahmoh sent him that morning.

"Morning, Jen. I hope you slept well." The generic painting behind Tahmoh and the color of the walls tells Jensen this was recorded in his hotel room. Jensen wants to reach through the phone's screen, touch Tahmoh's sleepy smile. "I kept waking up last night wishing you were next to me. Just thought you should know how much I miss you."

Jensen misses him, too. If Tahmoh were here—if Jensen could work up the nerve to tell him everything that's happened—he'd know what to do. 

"I never heard from you last night, so I hope things are okay with Jared. You know I worry about him, too. Anyway, wish me luck. It'll probably be a long day, but I'll call you tonight as soon as I get a chance. Take care, Jen. I can't wait to see you when I get back, hopefully with a win!"

Just hearing Tahmoh's voice eases some of the weight Jensen's carrying. Based on the rest of the videos, Calhoun's team fared pretty well today. Jensen's positive he'll hear more when Tahmoh calls. 

For once, Jensen's happy to have enough work to distract him for the remainder of the afternoon and evening. He doesn't want anything hanging over his head when Tahmoh calls. With any luck, they'll be able to finish what they (barely) started last night...

**~~~~~**

“What are we doing shots of?”

“Shots?” Jensen parrots. “You never do shots!”

“It’s not every day that I’m celebrating a regional win,” Tahmoh points out.

Jensen laughs while their bartender pours two shots of Fireball. The hot cinnamon whisky burns Jensen's throat on the way down, but it swirls warmly in his stomach, heat finding its way onto his cheeks. He's never seen Tahmoh so happy, so carefree. Jensen adores his quiet strength and gentle humor. Seeing him like this adds a new dimension to his feelings. 

Tahmoh’s been a whirlwind of excitement ever since the Calhoun girls won regionals (the boys put up a truly spectacular fight to place second against another behemoth swimming program). Going out to officially celebrate was his idea. Felicia is here along with her girlfriend, another assistant coach and his wife. The four of them are gathered around one of the pool tables while Tahmoh and Jensen handle drinks from the bar. Tahmoh even invited Jared. 

No one is more surprised than Jensen when Jared shows up. 

"Did I miss the shots?" Jared asks, stepping up to the bar. He looks rested, more color in his cheeks than when Jensen saw him the day before. His hair shines, brushed away from his face, and though he's not wearing Jensen's clothes, he looks amazing in a soft gray sweater over one of his many brightly colored plaids, dark-wash jeans and his customary boots.

“You only missed the first round!” 

Jared leans in when Tahmoh hugs him. Their heads remain close together for a moment as Tahmoh whispers something in his ear. Jared’s expression tightens for a split-second before the grin is back. Tahmoh waves down their bartender, making room for Jensen to tuck close and give Jared a hug, too. 

It’s the best night out Jensen’s had in a while. There are smiles, jokes, and stories. Jared acts like he hasn’t missed a step, throwing back the shot Tahmoh gives him and laughing at the burn. After a few drinks, Tahmoh is giddy. He deserves to be, Jensen thinks. His boyfriend looks like a fucking movie star: sleek leather jacket over a crisp white t-shirt, chiseled jaw accentuated by the reddish-brown scruff that’s grown in as a result of not shaving since before the regional meet.

“I’ve never seen you let loose like this,” Jensen comments. With Tahmoh pressed against his back, they attempt to defend their seats at the bar against the swelling Saturday night crowd. Jared’s beside them talking to Felicia about an app to which they’re both addicted. “I’m glad you’re having a good time.”

Tahmoh wraps one arm around Jensen’s waist. “It’s easy ‘cause you’re here,” he says like it’s that simple. “And Jared’s here. Feels pretty good to be together again.” His words brush lightly across the curve Jensen’s ear. “Whatever happened, I’m glad you guys worked it out. Seeing you without Jared was tough—I know how much you love him.”

This _thing_ between Jensen and Jared is far from worked out. He’s been debating whether or not to tell Tahmoh what happened with Jared the night Jensen picked him up from the Hill. Tahmoh was so excited when he came back; Jensen hasn’t found the right moment yet.

After the next round of drinks, Tahmoh’s public displays of affection are no longer limited to Jensen. He hangs off Jared, their arms thrown around one another’s shoulders. Jensen follows their lead and hooks his arm around Jared’s elbow so he can’t run away. Tahmoh reaches past Jared’s chest to steal the cherry from Jensen’s amaretto sour (for which they both mock him). The alcohol is a blessing and a curse, because no matter how good Jensen feels right now, the problems will be there tomorrow.

Felicia talks Tahmoh into a game of pool, leaving Jared and Jensen watching from the bar.

“I’m really happy you’re here, man.”

Jared’s expression falters when he turns his head towards the pool tables. “Have you said anything?”

Jensen swallows the extra cherry he sweet-talked the bartender into giving him. “About what?”

“Jen—you know what.”

“There’s nothing to tell, Jared. We didn’t do anything. Can we just not—can we just enjoy ourselves tonight? For Moh?”

Jared nods, but the truce only lasts a few minutes.

“He’s your boyfriend—you should be honest with him.”

“Are you planning to say something if I don’t?” Panic grips Jensen by the throat. Jared backtracks before he can freak out.

“I’d never do that to you,” he assures. “I just—I want things to be okay. I’d understand if you want to tell him. It’ll suck to lose Tahmoh as a friend, but—”

“That wouldn’t happen,” Jensen insists. The different kinds of alcohol are beginning to mix unpleasantly in his stomach. “Even if I do tell him, if he can’t get over what happened, I’ll—”

“You’ll what,” Jared presses, “break up with him? Don’t even go there. I know how you feel about him even if you haven’t said anything.”

Jensen sputters. If he's that transparent, then what has Tahmoh seen? Fortunately the man in question returns, sliding between them before he can respond. Felicia and her girlfriend squeeze their way up to the bar on Jared’s other side.

“Apparently I’m only good _in_ the pool, not playing it.” Tahmoh pouts on Jared’s shoulder, earning himself a gentle pat on the back. 

While Felicia fills Jared and Jensen in on the game, Tahmoh's hand slips into Jensen's back pocket, tempting him with a flirty squeeze when Jensen pushes into the touch. 

Suddenly, Jensen wants to be out of this bar. Arousal supersedes everything else. He hasn't gotten off since the night before Tahmoh left for the meet, and he welcomes the distraction of sex. He doesn't want to think about Jared, his feelings, or the guilt. 

Tahmoh’s touches straddle the line between affection and lust. Jensen's need is at an all-time high, so when Tahmoh leans over and kisses him, Jensen doesn’t temper his response. His tongue is halfway in Tahmoh’s mouth when Felicia clears her throat. Jensen breaks away and finds Jared and Felicia staring at them.

“Do us all a favor and get out of here,” she says, “before everyone gets a free show.”

Jared throws down some money for his share of the tab. “I’m gonna head out, too.” Jensen shoots him a look, to which Jared responds by adding, “Got a hot date with my DVR.”

Relieved that Jared’s not going someplace questionable like the Hill, Jensen lets Tahmoh settle their tab and follows him through the crowd. He tries not to look back, but he turns around when they reach the door and catches a glimpse of Jared hanging his head.

**~~~~~**

Locks, furniture, stairs. Jensen curses the existence of all three as they do their damnedest to hinder Jensen and Tahmoh on their way to Jensen’s bedroom.

Jensen is so horny, his brain has rerouted its capabilities to make sure he doesn’t come before he’s even naked. Unbuttoning his jeans is more of a hassle than it should be, but with Tahmoh’s help, they finally manage to undress each other.

“Guess you really missed me,” Tahmoh says. Jensen doesn’t bother denying it, too busy fumbling through his bedside drawer to pull out lube and a condom. 

Despite his guilt over keeping secrets from Tahmoh, Jensen knows what he wants. Top or bottom, Jensen has no complaints with Tahmoh either way, but tonight he craves control. Needs to be inside his boyfriend, feeling him come apart. They rush through prep, skipping their usual foreplay, and it’s Tahmoh who insists that he’s ready.

“I can wait if you need me to,” Jensen assures, voice stretched.

“I don’t want you to,” Tahmoh gasps, Jensen’s fingers relentless against his rim, scissoring and gliding. “I’m good—I’m ready.”

Jensen’s shaking when he sinks his cock into the rippling heat of Tahmoh’s body. Tahmoh mistakes his shivering for intensity of sensation, soothing with gentle strokes down Jensen’s arms and across his shoulders. Pulling him down for a slow kiss while pushing down with his hips, taking every last inch.

It’s _fear_ sending these quakes throughout Jensen’s body. He was afraid his feelings for Tahmoh might change after learning Jared’s secret. The word _love_ has been on the tip of Jensen’s tongue more than once; Tahmoh deserves to know how much Jensen cares for him. Would those feelings be lessened, now that he knows what Jared was hiding?

The answer hits Jensen when Tahmoh reaches for his hand, lacing their fingers together and placing joined hands over his heart. It wrecks Jensen’s rhythm, nearly pulls him off balance, but looking down at Tahmoh’s pleasure-slack face, Jensen _knows_.

He loves Tahmoh. Every fiber is soaked with it. He doesn’t say it—not yet, not when it could be confused for sex-emotions—but he rejoices. Jensen throws himself into the moment with renewed passion, spreading his knees on the bed for a better angle. Tahmoh’s moans come one after another, breath seizing in his chest when Jensen strikes his prostate with a hard thrust.

Jensen lasts longer than he thought he would, losing himself deep within Tahmoh’s body. He barely touches Tahmoh’s cock before his boyfriend’s coming, too.

“I don’t think I can get up,” Tahmoh says. “You fucked the energy right out of me.”

“Means I did something right,” Jensen teases, his own legs protesting any kind of movement as he tosses the used condom.

“You definitely did.”

They’re covered in sweat but Jensen lies close to Tahmoh, sheets kicked down around their ankles. A post-sex haze descends over both men; they’re content to hold each other in silence, touches too light to spark another round this soon.

Jensen realizes Tahmoh has fallen asleep when his breathing deepens. Not a surprise given how much he drank and the way Jensen wrung that orgasm from his body. Jensen fights sleep a little longer, anxiety no longer held back by arousal.

There’s no way around it now: if Jensen loves Tahmoh, he needs to tell him what happened. Their relationship is strong—Tahmoh will understand. He falls asleep holding that thought in his mind. If he grips Tahmoh a little tighter throughout the night, they’re none the wiser.

**~~~~~**

Jensen almost tells Tahmoh the next morning. Instead, he takes pity on his hungover boyfriend and makes pancakes topped with fruit. They spend most of Sunday doing work in between cuddle-heavy naps on Jensen’s couch until Tahmoh has to leave.

“You could stay.”

“I haven’t slept at my place since I got back.” Tahmoh reminds him. “I like spending time here, but I’m out of clean clothes and I’ve gotta get up way too early in the morning.”

“Back to regular practices?”

“State meet’s in two weeks.” Tahmoh groans. “It’s gonna be rough.”

Jensen goes for a run before the sun sets that night. He loops around his neighborhood twice—a good three miles—trying to pound his worries out on the pavement. He still comes home restless, pressure behind his ribs not solely from the exertion.

Tahmoh’s busy for most of the week with two practices every day for his swimmers who qualified for the State Championship meet. He and Jensen do manage to grab dinner together on Wednesday. Felicia’s there, too, helping Tahmoh arrange buses and hotel rooms for Calhoun’s team. Tahmoh makes it up to Jensen later, following him back to the house and fucking him slow and deep against the kitchen counter. Consider that room _christened_.

At Hallgrove, Jensen’s relationship with Jared is more stable. They order lunch from a couple of new places, help Erica narrow down venue options for the wedding, and try to make one another laugh out loud with cat gifs on their phones during a staff meeting. Outside of the school, they can’t avoid the reality of their situation. Jared brings it up at Troubadour’s on Thursday afternoon.

“I’m waiting for the right time,” Jensen says when Jared asks if Tahmoh knows. 

“It’s just a conversation.”

“Just a—Jay, he could break up with me.”

“He won’t.” Abandoning his papers, Jared leans back in his chair. And then, because Jensen can’t help himself, he asks the question that’s been tormenting him.

“Do you want him to?”

Jared’s fists clench on the table, his jaw clenched. He studies Jensen with an unwavering gaze, expression unreadable. Eventually, he sighs and says, “I didn’t tell you how I felt so that you and Moh would break up. I told you because keeping it a secret was like slowly dying from poison I took every day, and because you deserved to know.”

 _Sounds like a familiar argument_ , Jensen thinks. He doesn’t know what he would’ve done if Jared said yes.

“If breaking you up was my goal, I could’ve done it before now.”

Jensen’s nerves are being trampled. “What are you talking about?”

Jared’s fingers rub in circles over his temples. Whatever he’s about to say comes at a cost.

“Tahmoh and I talked one night a few weeks ago, back when I didn’t see you guys much.” It was one of the rare times Jared went to the gym during those couple of months, he explains. Tahmoh cornered him in the empty locker room, pressing for answers about why Jared was avoiding them.

“He called me a dick.”

Jensen smirks half-heartedly. “You deserved it.”

Tahmoh demanded to know why Jared had pulled away. “I couldn’t tell him the real reason, so I said it was personal. That’s when he sort of, I don’t know—I guess he shut down.”

“What did he say?” Jensen prompts, desperate to put pieces together.

“He asked if he was the reason I’d stopped hanging out with you. He thought I’d changed my mind and that I didn’t want you two together anymore. He didn’t say it, but I think he knew what I was going through, trying to work out my feelings towards you.”

Jensen barely manages to swallow around the lump in his throat, emotions threatening to choke him.

“And then Moh said he couldn’t stand to see you hurting because of me,” Jared continues. “He wanted you to be happy, and he would’ve done anything, including stepping aside for your best friend.” More frantic now, his gaze never wavers from Jensen’s. “I couldn’t let him do that, Jen. Even then I knew how good you were for one another. I could see it.

“He brought it up again at the restaurant the other night.” Jensen flashes back to the scene: Tahmoh and Jared’s chairs pulled close together, heads bent in conversation. Words they obviously didn’t want Jensen to hear. “Tahmoh was making sure I was still okay. I told him he was the better man for you.”

When did Jensen’s life veer so far off course? A few weeks ago, he thought he finally achieved the happiness he wanted. Now it’s as if someone threw Jensen’s plans in a box, shook it up, and dumped the pieces out on the floor, all scrambled and out of order.

Completely out of steam, Jensen mutters, “Did he offer to break up with me then, too?”

This time, Jared’s smile is genuine. “Just the opposite. He said he couldn’t let you go even if I asked him.”

He’s finally pushed Jensen off the emotional cliff.

“I need to get home,” Jensen says in a rush, gathering his work without bothering to mark how far he got with his grading.

“Jen, wait—”

“No, I can’t take any more. How could you guys not _talk_ to me? I was right there the whole time!”

“I don’t think any of us were ready.”

“So this is _better_?” Jensen hisses. He’s not _angry_ , he just needs to talk to Tahmoh before his head spins off. Standing, he slings his bag over his shoulder. Before he can take a step, Jared reaches for his hand.

“Hang on, there’s one more thing,” Jared says. “At the bar the other night, Tahmoh warned me not to pull away from either of you again, that I meant too much to both of you, and he wouldn’t stand for it if I hurt you all over again.”

He sighs. “So I’m trying, Jen. I promise. I’m not hiding anything anymore. And I thought you should know that he cares enough about to you to stand up to me, even if he hasn’t told you yet.”

**~~~~~**

Tahmoh walks in at a quarter after eight, one arm weighed down with grocery bags. Jensen took the next step in their relationship by giving him a key almost two weeks ago so he could come and go as he pleased. Tahmoh has taken particular delight in sneaking over on his way to an early practice, waking Jensen up with slow, wet head in the dark before sunrise.

Jensen is starting to like mornings again.

“Trader Joe’s had these almond crusted chicken breasts pre-made, so I picked up a couple.” Tahmoh sets the paper bags on Jensen’s counter. “I thought we could pop them in the oven while we—Jen?” He stops and moves around towards Jensen who’s been sitting silently at the kitchen island. “What’s wrong?”

Jensen’s been waiting there since he got Tahmoh’s text letting him know he was on his way over. Fifteen minutes spent wondering where to begin. He’s been so worried about telling his boyfriend about Jared’s confession, he never considered that Tahmoh might already know.

“Can we talk?”

They end up at the counter after Tahmoh gets the chicken in the oven. Jensen hopes his body language doesn’t read as hostile.

“There’s something I have to tell you,” he begins. “At first I felt bad about keeping it from you, but now I’m thinking you know how that feels.”

Tahmoh sighs. “You talked to Jared.” His broad shoulders are curled in resignation. “I figured something happened between you guys while I was gone—you were both different when I got back.”

Jensen relays the story of that night as best he can, leaving out his own history at Diamond Hill; that’s a tale for another time. He tells Tahmoh how Jared was too drunk to drive himself home, how he brought Jared back here thinking he’d pass out on the couch and that would be the end of it.

Tahmoh reaches the conclusion before Jensen gets there. “He told you how he feels about you, didn’t he? I’m glad, actually,” he says when Jensen nods. “I think it was killing him that you didn’t know.”

“But you did.”

“I have the benefit of an outsider’s point of view.” Jensen feels a pang hearing Tahmoh refer to himself as an _outsider_. “Thinking back, it should’ve been obvious given the way he used to talk about you.”

“It doesn’t bother you?” Jensen asks, trying to imagine how he’d feel in a similar situation.

“It did at first,” Tahmoh says. “I couldn’t understand why he set us up if he liked you. But then I figured it was probably something you two had talked about and dealt with years ago. Didn’t take me very long to realize that he never actually told you.”

“And then you thought he regretted setting us up on that blind date.”

Tahmoh looks over. “Jared told you about that, too?” He sounds surprised. “He asked me not to say anything.” On the one hand, Jensen’s pleased that he kept his word to Jared, but on the other, Jensen is his _boyfriend_.

“Why did you tell him that you’d step aside if he asked you to?”

“We hadn’t made it official yet. I know that’s not a reason, but you should know when it happened. It was before I acknowledged how much I care about you, but even then I don’t know that I could’ve walked away. I never had to make the choice. Jared wouldn’t let me. And the next time he and I talked about it, stepping aside was no longer an option.”

With an earnest smile, Tahmoh turns on the stool, knees knocking Jensen’s (clearly his kitchen island wasn’t built with men over six feet tall in mind), and reaches for Jensen’s hands. 

“Did Jared tell you what else I said?”

“You were doing it because wanted me to be happy,” Jensen recalls.

“I wanted _both_ of you to be happy. Jared’s a good friend, and he was suffering, too.” Tahmoh squeezes Jensen’s hands. “God, I remember thinking that if I was the reason you were both so miserable, I needed to change something. Can you blame me for saying what I did?”

Jensen can’t, and he says as much before pulling Tahmoh forward by the hands and seeking his lips. It’s a quiet, unhurried kiss with little intent behind it, but Jensen welcomes the rush of affection that comes with it. He wishes Tahmoh said something earlier, if only to save Jensen from the maddening confusion of the last few weeks, but saying so would make him a hypocrite. He needs to come clean, too.

“Jared almost kissed me.”

In the ensuing silence, Jensen tells him when it happened, how it was only the once. Tahmoh takes his time before saying anything. When he does, it’s a question that sinks Jensen to the lowest he’s felt all day.

“Did you want him to?”

“I wouldn’t have let him,” Jensen says.

“That’s not what I was asking.” Tahmoh hesitates before adding, “It’s okay, Jen. We’re being honest.”

Jensen has replayed that moment in the kitchen many times over since it happened. He knows what he felt. “I’ve seen him kiss a lot of people,” he admits, “and it wasn’t the first time I wanted it to be me. But nothing happened, I promise.”

“I trust you,” Tahmoh says, gazing at Jensen like he knew the answer all along. “And it _is_ okay. There was a time I wanted to kiss him, too.”

The oven beeps, counting down the minutes until their dinner is ready, but they ignore it.

“When?” he asks, genuinely curious and surprised to find he’s not upset. 

“Before he set us up.” Tahmoh lets go of Jensen’s hands and stands, grabbing potholders to take the chicken out of the oven before the beeping drives them insane. He goes on to explain that when he and Jared started talking to each other more often at the gym, he had considered asking Jared out.

“He’s a flirt, you know that,” he tells Jensen. “I guess I assumed he was bisexual, at least, given that and the way he talked about you. I thought you were his boyfriend at first, not his best friend.”

Before Tahmoh had the opportunity to ask Jared out for a drink, Jared beat him to the punch. Except, he wasn’t asking for himself.

“Before I said yes to the date with you, I asked Jared if he was into guys at all. Maybe I was wrong about the flirting. I kinda had a hard time believing it when he told me he was straight, but I decided to let it go when he brought up the blind date. And once I met you, it didn’t matter anymore.”

“Why not?”

Tahmoh stops arranging their dinners on two plates and circles around the island. Steps between Jensen’s legs and curls his hands around Jensen’s nape, leaving him no choice but to look up and meet Tahmoh’s gaze.

“You changed _everything_ , Jensen.”

Screw dinner.

Jensen surges off the stool, Tahmoh catching him before they lose their balance and go toppling to the floor. He's rarely so aggressive, snagging Tahmoh's bottom lip between his teeth and tugging until Tahmoh whines. Jensen spins them until Tahmoh’s back hits the counter, assailing his boyfriend's wide open mouth, fumbling fingers trying to find the button on Tahmoh’s pants without breaking their kiss.

“Fuck,” Tahmoh curses. “Just pull them down!”

Track pants. Right. Issue resolved, Jensen drops to his knees and whets his raging appetite by coaxing Tahmoh’s cock to hardness with tongue and touch, sucking him off right there in the middle of the kitchen while their dinner cools on the counter behind them.

In Jensen’s enthusiasm, he takes Tahmoh too deep, only just avoiding being choked when Tahmoh involuntarily bucks forward.

“Sorry,” he coughs. 

“Easy, Jen,” Tahmoh says, hands combing through Jensen’s hair in soft counterpoint to his ragged breathing. “I’m already close.” He hauls Jensen to his feet, muttering, “Pants down, _now_ ,” so that he can wrap his hand around both of their cocks. Jensen’s fully hard and desperate—the same as Tahmoh—and it only takes a few minutes for them to make a mess of one another.

Good thing almond-crusted chicken tastes decent when it’s cold, too.

**~~~~~**

Jensen doesn’t notice the shift at first.

His time with Tahmoh is cut in half over the next week as his boyfriend prepares for States. When they do see each other, it’s _intense_. Not that Jensen’s complaining—it’s the good kind of intense where their bodies are hotwired to one another. Conversation is secondary; sometimes Tahmoh barely makes it into the house before Jensen is racing him to the bedroom. Only after fucking themselves into an exhausted heap of sweaty limbs on Jensen’s bed do they slide back into benign kisses, trading stories from the day.

The sex is so good, Jensen fears for his brain cells. It's as if they're fucking with something to prove. When they're together, nothing else is important.

Jensen finds himself thinking back to what Tahmoh said on Thursday night. That Jensen changed everything. He hasn't told Tahmoh yet, but it's the same for him. He's no longer anxious about his future. As far as Jensen's concerned, he's found what he was looking for, and because of that, he doesn't let himself analyze the fleeting sense that something's _off_. 

Jared has pulled a one-eighty. Instead of avoiding Jensen and Tahmoh, he's everywhere. At Troubadour's with Jensen after school, overdosing on caffeine as they try to stay ahead of the end-of-term craziness. With Tahmoh at the gym, where they push one another with good-natured competition, from which Jensen reaps the benefits when Tahmoh comes over afterwards, flush with endorphins and eager to sweat some more. Jared even accepts an invitation to join them at Jamie's new bar for stress-relieving drinks.

Jensen expects _some_ weirdness after last week’s revelations, but the three of them slip seamlessly into conversation. Jared smiles without being prompted—Jensen finds himself drawn to the sight—and there’s a brightness in his eyes that’s not from the bar lighting.

Tahmoh is a bridge between them, touching Jared’s elbow with one hand while the other finds Jensen’s on top of the bar. Jensen watches them trade easy smiles and affectionate gestures. It raises his spirit to see their friendship growing into its full potential, no longer stunted by Jared’s self-imposed exile. The sight causes a spike in his pulse; there's not a man or woman in the bar who isn't affected by the two handsome men. For Jensen, who's intimately familiar with both in various ways, it's stirring. 

The only odd moment of the night comes when one of Jamie’s friends, a handsome man with dark, wavy hair and a London accent draws Jared into conversation. Apparently the man, Oliver, shares Jared’s passion for modern literature, and it’s not long before they’re deep in discussion over a particular author.

Jensen hates him immediately.

Tahmoh leans in to ask Jensen, “Think he’s interested in Jared?” Based on Oliver’s body language, the answer is yes, though Jared is tougher to read. His expression is open and there’s plenty of eye contact, but that could be Jared’s excitement at being able to talk about his favorite subject. (Jensen likes to pretend he can't tolerate modern lit for more than five minutes and Tahmoh completely glazes over.)

Ten minutes later, though, Oliver has disappeared and Jared’s standing between Jensen and Tahmoh ordering a second drink. Jensen feels like crowing. Tahmoh meets his gaze and smiles, easing his stance. 

These are the moments when the buzz under Jensen’s skin is hard to ignore.

Two days before Tahmoh leaves for States, Jensen invites Tahmoh, Felicia, and the rest of Calhoun Swimming's staff, along with Jared, to a pub he and Jared discovered when they'd first moved to town. After eating, they split up into smaller groups to play pub games or drink at the bar.

“Gonna miss Moh this weekend?” Jared asks, sidling up next to Jensen. Beside the indoor shuffleboard table, Tahmoh’s talking to the athletic director while they slide their pieces across the sandy surface. 

“It’ll be weird without him at the house,” Jensen admits. “I’ve gotten used to someone else being there.”

Jared buys the next round, handing Jensen a fresh beer. "It makes me happy to see you guys together.”

Jensen braces himself for another confession—he hasn’t had nearly enough to drink for that.

“I can’t explain it,” Jared tells him, “but I feel good when I look at you. Like there’s hope, you know?”

Jensen frowns. “Hope for what?”

Before Jared can sate Jensen’s curiosity, he’s being tugged away from the bar by Felicia who claims him as her partner for darts.

Two games later, Felicia gives up and comes to sit by Jensen (who couldn’t hit the broadside of a barn) while Tahmoh and Jared keep playing. She’s smiling and pink-cheeked, red curls tucked behind her ears. She laughs off her failure at darts and thanks Jensen for treating them to a night out. 

“I didn’t know how stressed I was until I tried to relax,” she says. “I’ll be glad when the season’s over and we get a break.”

Jensen’s looking forward to that, too. Tahmoh has two weeks off before he starts coaching a summer league. He can’t wait to sleep in with his boyfriend. Sex is awesome, but nothing beats lazy morning cuddling.

A booming laugh draws Jensen out of his thoughts. Tahmoh’s head is thrown back as he reacts to whatever Jared has said, one hand firmly gripping Jared’s shoulder. His full-bodied laugh is one of Jensen’s favorite sounds in the world; it’s rare but beautiful.

Felicia sighs. “Those two are awesome together,” she says dreamily. "Makes you wish you could have them both, huh?" Jensen’s heart skips back over its own rhythm. “I guess you kinda do. Best friend, boyfriend. I mean, wow! That must be awesome for you.”

Felicia keeps talking, deaf to the fact that she’s taken a fucking sledgehammer to Jensen’s frame of mind. The pieces are everywhere—jagged edges and sharp splinters Jensen can’t begin to clean up.

 _Both of them_. A piece too deadly to handle.

Somehow Jensen manages to survive the next half hour at the pub, though he’s oblivious to anything he says or does before Tahmoh calls it a night. They head out to the parking lot, Jared and Tahmoh bickering about their last game of darts.

“You know I’m a better player,” Tahmoh’s insisting. “That’s one of the reasons you like me so much.”

Jared scoffs. “Right. I almost asked you out because of your skills at a fucking bar game.”

It hits Jensen and Tahmoh at the same time, both pulling up short. But it’s Tahmoh who says, “I almost asked you out, man. Get it straight.”

Jared shrugs it off, three beers loosening his tongue. “Yeah, I never told you, but I definitely thought about it.” He keeps walking towards his car like it’s no big deal, leaving Jensen and Tahmoh standing speechless in the middle of the lot.

People need to _seriously stop fucking_ with Jensen’s mental health.

They drive to Jensen’s in separate cars. The mood is subdued unlike the last several nights Tahmoh has spent at Jensen's house when their clothes would be on the floor by now and the nearest piece of furniture would be forced to bear the brunt of two men fucking. Tahmoh didn't drink enough to account for the glassiness in his eyes. They don’t say much while they’re going through their nightly routines, taking turns in the bathroom and coming to stand on opposite sides of Jensen’s bed.

Tahmoh sinks onto the mattress, shoulders dropped. "You knew."

Dragging his palm down the side of his face, Jensen sighs. “He told me he liked you, but he thought you and I would be a better fit. He never said anything to you?”

“He flirted with me, but I thought it had all been on your behalf.” Tahmoh’s voice is thoughtful. “After he set us up, I tried not to think about it. I never imagined he had feelings for me.” He says it like he assumes Jared's feelings burned out at some point. Jensen has seen enough to disagree. “What if he had asked me out?”

“Moh—”

“I’m serious, Jen. What if he never set us up?” Despite being exhausted, there’s an edge to his voice; he’s _terrified_. “I like him—I would’ve said yes.”

Jensen notes the present tense; he doesn't call Tahmoh on it.

“Neither of us could have seen this coming,” Jensen admits, crossing to sit beside him. It's difficult for him to imagine a scenario in which he wouldn’t be drawn to Tahmoh, including the one where he’s dating Jensen’s best friend.

He whispers as much to Tahmoh and earns a half-smile. 

“You could’ve been with Jared.”

Jensen sighs. “So could you.”

Sitting next to Tahmoh, their hands clasped between them, Jensen draws invisible lines. From himself to Jared—the longest line. So much history, so many emotions that Jensen has ignored or set on a shelf for the good of their friendship. From himself to Tahmoh—the boldest line. A strong foundation, the promise of a future. Jensen sees confidence, happiness along that path. And from Tahmoh to Jared—once the faintest, now gaining solid form. There are no gaps, no breaks in the lines. Only potential.

“This is what Jared was afraid of,” he muses aloud. “He never wanted to come between us.”

Tahmoh pulls Jensen sideways until they’re aligned from shoulder to thigh. “I’m committed to you, no matter how Jared feels. Do you feel the same way?” Jensen nods and Tahmoh continues, “I don’t think either of us can walk away from Jared, though. Right?”

Jensen looks down at their hands. “What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything yet.” Tahmoh laughs once, dryly, as if he can’t believe his own words. “I’m still afraid of what’s going to happen when I do.”

Jensen kisses him to stay his tongue, a forceful meeting of lips that lacks tenderness until Tahmoh’s free hand settles around the curve of Jensen’s jaw. He’s tamed through the touch, fear easing its hold on his mind. Parting his lips, Jensen invites Tahmoh’s tongue to twine with his, heat building until it spills over.

He doesn’t mean for the kiss to lead to more, but when Tahmoh pulls him down onto the bed, Jensen goes willingly. Clothes are removed piece-by-piece rather than in a rush. Jensen’s mouth falls to Tahmoh’s chest and he takes his fill of muscle and skin, winding down until he can take Tahmoh’s cock into his mouth. He doesn’t try to take too much, or rush Tahmoh’s pleasure; Jensen wants Tahmoh to feel everything. The mounting pressure, the wetness of Jensen’s mouth, every flick of his tongue.

Jensen ignores the guilt that comes from knowing that part of him is trying to impress his boyfriend, afraid Tahmoh won’t want him anymore now that he knows how Jared feels—now that Jensen knows that Tahmoh wanted Jared first. But when he finally slips his cock into Tahmoh’s thoroughly prepared ass, his thrusts are longer and deeper. Once he finds the right angle to hit Tahmoh’s prostate and hears his boyfriend cry out, every drive forward is precise and intentional to drag more of the same sounds from Tahmoh’s mouth. When Jensen kisses him, the taste is unbearably sweet.

Tahmoh holds Jensen afterwards, their arms wrapped around one another. It’s as if the earth is constantly shifting beneath their feet. As soon as Jensen thinks he’s found solid ground, that's when the next quakes hits. It leaves him wondering if there’s such a thing as safe ground out there. One thing Jensen does know: they can’t stay where they are.

“Why is this so difficult?” he asks looking down at where their forearms cross over Tahmoh’s chest. Jensen feels like his heart is curling in on itself.

Tahmoh takes several deep breaths, Jensen’s cheek rising and falling with each exhale. “Maybe we’re not where we’re supposed to be right now,” he says.

Jensen rolls up so he’s sitting over Tahmoh, the sheet falling until it barely covers their thighs. “How can you say we’re not supposed to be together? I thought—”

“Jen, that’s not what I’m saying.” Tahmoh sits up, too. “I meant what I said before. I don’t know what I would do without you in my life. That’s what scares me so much about this whole thing.”

“Why?”

Tahmoh smiles, but it doesn’t reach his sleepy gaze. They’re both exhausted. “I could fall in love with you, Jen. I’m pretty sure I already have. I’ve never said it to anyone before, but with you…”

Jensen has to keep his mouth shut. The words he’s been holding close to his heart for weeks are on the tip of his tongue, but this isn’t how he wants to give them life. Not in a moment like this. And he knows Tahmoh didn’t say them expecting a response.

“I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from falling for you even if I was with Jared. But he’s a great guy,” Tahmoh continues, “and I still like him. I wouldn’t be able to leave him, either.”

Suddenly the ground stops shaking and Jensen finds his footing. “And I wouldn’t let you,” he says. “I’d probably be going crazy, falling for the guy my best friend was dating.”

Tahmoh’s hand covers his knee. “You’d stay away because you felt guilty, but I wouldn’t allow that to happen. Neither would Jared.”

Jensen meets Tahmoh’s pale gaze and understands what his boyfriend is trying to tell him. That Jensen would do exactly what Jared did if their positions were reversed. Except Jensen doesn’t think he would have been able to withstand the pain of seeing Tahmoh and Jared together for as long as Jared has—he would have broken a long time ago. What can he say about that kind of strength?

“Jared should be here,” Jensen says, surprising himself. Tahmoh, too, based on his wide-eyed look. “I mean, I need to apologize. I didn’t understand what he was going through. Now we do.”

Sensing they each need space, Jensen throws on a pair of flannel pants and the first t-shirt he finds—a _Calhoun Swimming_ shirt Tahmoh brought him—and goes to make two cups of decaf coffee. When he gets back, Tahmoh is dressed in pajamas as well, though Jensen doubts they'll be getting much sleep.

“I texted Felicia,” he tells Jensen, taking the steaming mugs so Jensen can climb onto the bed. “She’s gonna run morning practice for me.”

“Probably a good idea.”

They’re quiet for the next few minutes. Jensen’s thoughts are circling the possibility Tahmoh has yet to say out loud, trying to gauge how he feels. He’s not _against_ the idea—if he wasn’t so tired, Jensen might even be excited—but it’s difficult to think about. He weighs the love he has for Jared against what he feels for Tahmoh and realizes there’s little separating the two.

“Is this something we’re considering?”

Jensen sighs. “I think we have to. We know how we feel about each other,” he says, matching Tahmoh’s smile with one of equal warmth, “and I know how I feel about Jared. Do you like him enough to see this through?"

Apprehension wipes the smile from Tahmoh's face. “Would you be mad if I said yes?”

Jensen isn’t, and he says as much by leaning forward and stealing a light kiss. “I only want you to be honest with me,” he whispers against Tahmoh’s lips.

“Then yes, I think we should try.” Tahmoh pulls back, eyes searching Jensen’s. He opens his mouth as if to add something, but he reconsiders. Jensen files it away for later. Instead, Tahmoh sets his mug on the nightstand and rubs Jensen’s shoulder. “How about we try to get a little bit of sleep?”

“I doubt that’ll help.”

“Still, we could use it.”

Jensen can’t think of a good argument, so he sets his mug aside as well. They don’t break apart to their regular sides of the bed, meeting in the middle and cuddling up to one another like they would after sex. Jensen doesn't mind; they could both use the comfort. 

It doesn’t escape Jensen that neither of them has put into words, specifically, what it is they’re considering.

**~~~~~**

They don’t talk much in the morning. Jensen wakes up late and has to rush through his shower. Tahmoh has his coffee in a travel mug by the time he gets downstairs. Thanks to Felicia covering practice, he could’ve slept for another hour, but he insisted on getting up with Jensen.

If that’s not love, Jensen doesn’t know what is.

“Are you gonna be here tonight?” Jensen asks while waiting for the toaster to pop.

“I don’t think I can,” Tahmoh says. “I’m giving Felicia the night off, and the buses are leaving early tomorrow morning.”

“So I won’t see you until Sunday night?”

“I wish that wasn’t the case.”

Jensen butters his toast, sprinkles a mixture of cinnamon and sugar over the bread. It’s been a comfort food for Jensen since college.

“Are you gonna hang out with Jared this weekend?”

Jensen looks up. “Do you not want me to?”

Tahmoh shakes his head. “I think it’s a good idea. You guys probably need to talk.” His voice lacks texture and warmth. Jensen could put it down to a lack of sleep, but he’s not convinced that’s the cause. There’s something Tahmoh isn’t telling him, some misgiving that involves Jared.

“You want us to talk without you?” That doesn’t seem right, either.

“You and I are talking without him,” Tahmoh points out. “You and Jared should do the same thing without me getting in the way. Or, just spend time together like you used to. It’s okay, I promise. Just don’t—” He cuts himself short, stares down at the floor.

Jensen should be rushing out the door. Instead, he takes two long strides and ends up in Tahmoh’s arms. “I would _never_ ,” he swears, “not without you.”

“I’ll call you tonight, okay?” Tahmoh mutters into Jensen’s shoulder. “If you don’t want to see Jared, that’s fine, too. Maybe we could all use a little time apart to get our heads on straight.”

Jensen leans back to look Tahmoh in the eye. “You don’t know what you want?”

“I do, I’m just afraid it’s not the same thing you want. Or that Jared will want.”

“Moh…”

“You’re gonna be late.” Tahmoh hands Jensen his mug and pushes him towards the door, giving Jensen no time to question his behavior. “Call me at lunch if you can.”

### PART FIVE

Jensen considers telling Jared what he and Tahmoh discussed last night. He loses his resolve as soon as he sees his best friend.

“Looks like you didn’t get much sleep,” Jared says, meeting Jensen in the hallway between their classrooms. Students rush past as Jared moves to stand beside him. “And I don’t mean in a sexy way. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Moh and I were up for a while.”

Jared sighs. “Was it because of the thing I said about almost asking Tahmoh out?”

“No—not exactly."

“It kinda slipped out. I never meant to say it.”

“I'm fine with it,” Jensen assures him. 

“Fine with me saying I wanted to date your boyfriend?”

The bells rings, interrupting their conversation and herding them into their classrooms along with their students. It's not until the school day is over that Jensen sees him again.

"Let's have dinner tomorrow night," Jensen says when he finds Jared raiding the supply room for a package of blue essay books. Tahmoh leaves town in the morning and Jensen needs the extra time to corral his emotions. He hasn't been able to stop thinking about what Tahmoh wanted to say the other night; there's only possibility that make sense. "I'll make reservations at Turner's Steakhouse."

"You only take me to Turner's when you've done something wrong, or when one of us breaks up with somebody. What's going on?"

"Maybe I just want some red meat," Jensen suggests. "Moh doesn't eat like that during the season."

Jared grabs a second stack of books—he must have one killer exam planned—and shrugs. "Fine, I'll let you buy me a ridiculously expensive piece of meat."

It's true that they only meet at Turner's when one of them needs to grovel or when a well-cooked steak is the only cure for heartbreak. However, this isn't a conversation Jensen wants to have in a noisy bar or over cheap takeout. 

The steakhouse is busy, but it is a Friday night. Jensen gets there first and gives the host his name. Jared shows up just in time for the man to seat them at a seductively lit booth towards the back of the restaurant. Jensen's not sure whether he's pleased or pissed that the atmosphere reminds him of a date. Everything from the rich leather seats that warm to Jensen's touch, to Jared's darkest pair of jeans makes him think of sex.

“Did you tell Moh we were going out to dinner?”

Jensen nods. “He knows I can’t go too long without red meat.” 

He talked to Tahmoh that morning while his boyfriend was on the bus. Jensen could hear him yawning over the phone—he'd needed to wake up criminally early to meet Felicia in Calhoun's parking lot.

“Are you going to tell him?” Tahmoh asked. His voice was low and calming, the way it always was when he awoke beside Jensen in the mornings.

“Not tonight," Jensen told him, "although I think there’s a way to see if he’s interested.” He waited for Tahmoh to agree, or disagree, or ask him what his plans were, but he was conspicuously silent. A shadow passed through Jensen's mind, bringing with it the unease he felt earlier. Tahmoh was worried and he wasn't telling Jensen the reason.“Just trust me, okay?”

To which Tahmoh responded, “I do.”

Their steaks arrive before the rumbling in Jensen’s stomach turns to mutiny. A thick filet for Jared, crusted in pepper, and a strip steak for Jensen. A bowl of Turner’s specialty mashed potatoes and another filled with steaming, locally sourced vegetables roasted to perfection sit in the middle of the table to be split between them.

“Oh my god.” Jared’s moan is as close to _sexual_ as it gets without being naked. “We need to come here more often.”

Jensen scoffs. “We’re teachers, man. We can’t afford that.”

While they devote themselves to eating, their conversation is nothing out of the ordinary. Jared lets Jensen try a piece of his filet (safer to ask than to just stick his fork in Jared’s meat—that’s a good way to lose a finger) and Jensen lets him have the lion’s share of the potatoes. It’s only when their plates have been removed that Jensen’s thoughts return to purpose. He has few clues to go on, but he think he might know why Tahmoh's acting strange. 

Jared’s looking at the dessert menu when Jensen says, “I'm pretty sure Tahmoh’s afraid I’m gonna leave him for you.”

Jared’s jaw drops before he gathers himself and says, “And you told him that was complete bullshit, I hope. We’ve been over this.”

“He how I feel about you.” Jensen chooses his words carefully. He doesn’t want to make Jared angry, or lead him in the wrong direction. “He said that you and I probably would’ve ended up together if he hadn’t come between us.”

“He _didn’t_ come between us, Jen,” Jared insists with quiet vehemence, keeping their conversation from reaching other tables. “I decided not to ask him out—that was my choice. If you and Moh hadn’t started dating, I might never have told you how I felt.”

“Don't my feelings matter, too? Ever since college, there’s been something between us,” Jensen points out. “I remember the night you watched me with that guy.”

“Jensen—”

“And I remember wondering if you were as straight as you claimed.”

“I _was_ straight back then. It took me years to figure out what I was feeling, and it wasn’t until Tahmoh that I even considered letting you know.”

Jensen takes a deep breath, bracing himself. “If I left Tahmoh, would you want to date me?”

Jared’s gaze narrows when he looks across the table. “You want to break up with him?”

“That’s not what I’m—”

“You wouldn’t leave Tahmoh unless there was something wrong, and you would’ve told me if that happened. Where the hell is this coming from?” Jensen watches Jared attempt to calm himself down before he boils over at the table. Fortunately they haven’t attracted the attention of other diners. “I sure as hell don’t want you to leave Moh because you think that's what I want, Jen. That was never my goal. I couldn’t do that to you guys.

“If you’re asking whether or not I’m jealous, then yeah,” Jared says, sagging back into the booth. “I wish I had that.”

“Maybe you can."

Jared laughs; the sound lacks humor. “You mean date someone else? Sorry, Jen, I don’t think that’s gonna happen anytime soon. None of the guys I hooked up with were dating material.”

“What about a woman?”

Jared shrugs. “Not really feeling it these days.”

“It really is me and Tahmoh, huh?” Jensen asks. 

Jared looks up, eyes shining despite the dim lighting. “I’m sorry—”

“Nothing to worry about,” Jensen says before Jared can finish the unnecessary apology. “I don’t really know what I was thinking, asking you all that…”

Of course, that's a lie; Jensen knows exactly what he was doing. He needed to know if Jared would want Jensen on his own, no Tahmoh in the equation. He might not have gotten a straight answer, though he saw enough in Jared’s expression to know that the idea of leaving Tahmoh out is as painful for him as it is for Jensen. 

This could work out after all.

“Have you told Tahmoh that you love him?”

Jensen’s breath stops short. “I—I…” he sputters before shaking his head. “Not yet.”

“But you do, right?” When Jensen nods, Jared says, “You’re just nervous. You want to tell him and your brain is going to all kinds of crazy places.”

 _Crazy places, indeed_ , Jensen thinks.

“You’re totally buying dinner though,” Jared tells him. “You owe me for the amount of _weird_ I just had to sit through.”

Jensen pays the check happily.

**~~~~~**

On Sunday, Jensen stays home and silences his phone, intending to make a sizeable dent in the amount of grading he has to finish. However, he can’t control the direction his thoughts take.

Leaving his papers and tablet in the office, Jensen wanders into the kitchen figuring he needs to eat. He texted Tahmoh from the comfort of bed earlier that morning, catching his boyfriend before he boarded the bus to the pool. Calhoun’s swimmers were doing well, Tahmoh told him, although he was eager for the Championships to be over.

 **Gonna spend three days in bed when I get back** , Tahmoh texted.

 **I still have to work :-(** , Jensen pointed out.

 **You can wake me up for sex, but that’s it.** Jensen laughed until he saw Tahmoh’s next message. **We’ll both need the sleep if we end up talking to Jared.**

Just like that, Jensen was nervous all over again. After the steakhouse, Jensen came home feeling better about the potential for including Jared in his relationship with Tahmoh. They’d reached a good balance; when they were together, it clicked. Until someone said the wrong thing. And the _wrong thing_ usually had something to do with Jared not being a part of the relationship and the hurt it brought.

Jensen tried not to think about what the sex could be like. Tried and failed. What little porn he had on his personal computer was lacking in threesome action. The one video he did have wasn’t much to go on: the three men were distant, uncommunicative. The sex was hot yet impersonal. Jensen anticipates that sex with both Tahmoh and Jared could fall just short of maddening—two passionate men creating a whirlwind Jensen would be happy to get swept up in. 

Talk about brain-melting.

Reading Tahmoh’s text that morning and realizing that if Jared accepted, sex would go from a possibility to a reality, Jensen’s mind began to backtrack. What happened to his simple plans? Meet a nice guy, have great sex, fall in love. Jensen has all the pieces, but they're not fitting together the way he expects them to, as if the picture he's working from is wrong. 

While Jensen waits for his cheddar and broccoli bowl to finish in the microwave, he wonders what his life would look like if he hadn’t agreed to the blind date months ago.

Maybe Tahmoh would’ve asked Jared out, but Jared wasn’t ready to date a guy. Unable to move forward, their friendship would have fizzled until they drifted apart completely. Jensen would have been overwhelmed by loneliness and desire for something more, and he would’ve suffered a string of bad dates. (Jensen can’t imagine anyone measuring up to Jared or Tahmoh. That’s _literally_ a tall order) Without a serious relationship to spur Jared into confessing his feelings for Jensen, it might’ve been years before Jared took that step. If he ever did.

Even with the pain and the anxiety and the drama, Jensen doesn’t want to go back. What he has now is so much better.

The microwave _dings_. Jensen takes his food back to the office and tries with his free hand to clear a space on his desk. He misjudges where the corner is, knocking books and papers onto the floor. Only a speedy reflex saves his iPad from crashing down along with the rest.

Cursing, Jensen sets his bowl down before crouching to pick up the mess. He stacks the papers in a pile to be organized later and grabs one of the books. _The Bone Clocks_. He doesn’t recognize the cover at first. Looking at the author, he immediately knows it came from Jared, along with the other three books on the floor. He must’ve left them here sometime in the last few weeks.

Jared’s always bringing books over for Jensen to read. Hard copies, of course, because what kind of Classics teacher would Jensen be if he didn’t appreciate the feel and smell of a paperbound book? There must be close to a dozen sitting around the house—on the kitchen counter and on his nightstand. 

Smiling, Jensen stands and carries the books to the built-in shelves that dominate the back wall of his office. At least a third of the contents came from Jared—books and journals and even two _Calvin and Hobbes_ anthologies. Some have spines yet to be cracked, while others are well-loved, pages pre-tabbed with little highlighter-yellow tabs. Jensen hasn’t read half of those books, but he loves that Jared brings them over, ever hopeful.

Setting the books on a partially empty shelf, Jensen notices something else out of the ordinary: a plaque engraved with the logo of the state athletics association and Tahmoh’s name inscribed below the title of _Achievement in Coaching_. Next to that, a stack of lightly crumpled timesheets from the regional swim meet, the margins filled with Tahmoh’s angular handwriting.

Jensen remembers Tahmoh bringing over the plaque the week after regionals. He left it on the desk when he came in to distract Jensen from his work. The timesheets must’ve gotten mixed up with Jensen’s papers one night while they sat on the couch, ignoring their responsibilities for an hour or two in favor of making out.

Mementos from Tahmoh, books from Jared. All of it set amongst Jensen's things without a thought or care. Simple signs that carry a world of meaning. It's the same throughout the rest of his house, whether it's Tahmoh's vitamins in the kitchen or the _English Majors do it with Style_ mug Jared left here. Tahmoh has a drawer in the bedroom; Jared's t-shirts are mixed in with Jensen's. 

Jensen grasps that this is what he's supposed to have: three lives entwined, each better for the lack of separation. He needs Tahmoh and Jared in his life equally. It's no longer an option for Jensen to leave Jared adrift from a relationship he had as much hand in nurturing as Jensen and Tahmoh themselves.

Jared has always had a place with them. It's just taken this long to realize what that meant. 

Jensen stands in front of the shelves until his knees begin to tremble. When he goes to take a step backwards, he's surprised how drained he feels, barely making it to his desk chair before he crumbles. His emotions are so strong, they've taken a physical toll on his body. 

Tossing papers aside with no thought for the mess he's making or the cold bowl of food, Jensen digs through the clutter on his desk until his fingers find his phone. He flips to Tahmoh's name in his recent calls and dials, even though he knows Tahmoh won't pick up.

He waits through the interminable voicemail prompts, knees bouncing, and leaves a message. Jensen's voice is steady when he says the words he's been holding back for weeks.

When he hangs up, he's bursting with adrenaline and purpose. He abandons his work and grabs his car keys, making it to the garage before he remembers he’s wearing his lazy-day clothes. Not exactly the impression he wants to make. That’s easily fixed with a detour to his closet before he’s back in the garage and on his way out.

**~~~~~**

“Jensen?” Jared stands in the doorway waiting for Jensen to say something. “What are you doing here?” His smile drops. “Did something happen?”

Jensen doesn’t get the chance to shake his head before Jared is dragging him into the apartment, door slamming in their wake.

“Is it Tahmoh?” Jared asks. “He said he was coming home tonight—”

Jensen grabs his best friend by the shoulders. “Moh’s fine. I came over to see you.”

Jared’s mouth shuts with a click. Leading Jensen into the kitchen, he opens the fridge and offers Jensen a beer. 

“I’d better not,” Jensen says. “Maybe you should hold off, too.”

Jared scowls but he steps away from the fridge empty-handed. “You’re making me nervous. Tell me what’s going on.”

In the car on the way over, Jensen spun words until he was dizzy. He thought he knew what he was going to say when he saw Jared, but his mind is blank.

“Do you need to sit down?” Jared asks. “Why don’t you—”

“I want to date you,” Jensen blurts out. Mentally kicks himself because that’s not where he intended to begin.

Jared’s expression falls into shadow as if a storm cloud passed overhead. His words are ice when he says, “How many times do I have to say it? I’m not going to break up your relationship.”

“I’m not asking you to!” Jensen insists, but that only deepens Jared’s frown. “I mean, that’s not what I’m trying to say. I just—I think being with you is a good idea. Tahmoh, too.”

“Tahmoh thinks you need to _sleep_ with me? What the hell, Jen?” Jared spins away and slams his fist on the countertop. Jensen steps forward to grab Jared’s hand, but it’s yanked out of his grip. “If there’s something wrong between you and Tahmoh, I’m not the fix! You can’t save your relationship by cheating on him with me.”

“Fuck,” Jensen curses. He’s blowing this. After leaving Tahmoh that voicemail—pure emotional word-vomit—he knew he needed to talk to Jared one on one, desperate to find out if Jared might consider this.

Jared’s arms are crossed, his stare pining Jensen in place. Jensen takes a deep breath. He has one more chance to say this, because Jared’s patience is gone.

“Something _is_ wrong, but it’s not what you think,” Jensen tells him. “When you pulled away from me, it was one of the most painful things I’ve ever gone through. If it wasn’t for Tahmoh, I would’ve gone crazy.”

“I came back,” Jared says, voice barely above a whisper.

“And I was so happy you did. But that wasn’t enough, was it? There was so much tension. We should have known things weren’t back to normal.”

“I’ll get there,” Jared promises.

Unable to stand the hurt on Jared’s face, Jensen lays a hand on Jared’s forearm where it’s crossed over his chest.

“I don’t want normal anymore,” Jensen confesses, “and I’m not doing it to save anything. If you say no, I’ll walk out and we’ll forget I ever came over here tonight. I’ll wait for Tahmoh to get home, and we’ll move on.”

Jared does well to keep his voice from shaking when he looks down at Jensen and asks, “Say no to what?”

“I love you, Jared.” He sees Jared’s breath hitch in his throat, but he can’t stop. “I’ve always loved you as a friend, but this is different. I love Tahmoh and I think you do, too.”

“Jen—”

“And I know for a fact that Tahmoh has strong feelings for you, but that's for him to say.”

Jared drops his chin and shakes his head, denying Jensen’s words. “It doesn’t matter. You and Tahmoh are together and I refuse to mess that up,” he hisses.

“What if you’re messing it up by _not_ being a part of it?”

The tension snaps back into place. Jared’s gaze is so focused, Jensen feels like his skin is going to burn. It’s a solid thirty seconds of silence until Jared opens his mouth again.

“And by a part of it, you mean…”

“I want to date you, and I want to keep seeing Tahmoh, but I want him to date you, too.”

“Like three separate relationships?”

“All of us, together.” Again, Jared tries to duck his head and look away, but Jensen won’t let him. He raises his other hand and holds Jared’s chin. “We all want it, alright? It makes so much sense, Jay.”

There’s so much to read in Jared’s eyes, green and gold flashing as dozens of emotions rush through his mind. (Jensen knows the feeling.) Jensen’s patient because he needs to be—he wants to give Jared time to process. And looking at his best friend isn’t exactly a hardship. Unstyled, there’s a faint wave to Jared’s hair. It looks so soft tucked behind his ears. Unlike Jensen, he obviously shaved that day, no stubble to hide that sinful jawline. He’s wearing a pair of shorts emblazoned with their college logo, a shirt with a tagline so faded, it’s unreadable. He looks comfortable; Jensen wants to cuddle with him.

Maybe later, if all goes well.

“I thought you’d be angry,” Jared whispers. 

“About what?”

“I swear to God, I was never gonna tell you.”

And Jensen understands. “You’ve thought about this, too.”

“I tried not to,” Jared says, “I felt horrible about it, but when we were all hanging out together, I couldn’t help _wanting_ , you know? You and Moh were so happy—I imagined what it would be like to be a part of that.”

Jensen reiterates, “We want you to be. But just so we’re clear, this isn’t _you_ and _us_. There would be three people in this.” It’s a fact Jensen needed to clarify for himself, too. Jared wouldn’t be joining a couple—the three of them need to approach this as equals, like it’s an entirely new relationship. Which, in a way, Jensen supposes it is.

“Are you saying I get to have this?” Jared asks, dumbfounded.

“We all do.”

“And Moh?”

Jensen grins. “Actually he’s the one who opened my eyes to the idea."

“Thank God for him.” Jared’s words come on a long exhale. Jensen silently agrees.

Jared relaxes for the first time since he opened the door, the rigidity leaving his spine. He melts against Jensen, the counter behind him taking a good deal of their weight. It’s the closest Jensen’s been to Jared since the morning they almost kissed in Jensen’s kitchen. Just as it was then, the pressure of Jared’s gaze sets a fire beneath Jensen’s skin.

“There’s no gel in your hair,” Jared says out of nowhere. He combs his fingers behind Jensen’s ear, scratching his scalp. 

“I was having a lazy day,” Jensen explains, leaning into the touch. It feels unbearably good—Jensen’s been starving for Jared’s touch, so different from Tahmoh’s but no less welcome.

“I like it soft like this.”

A short laugh pushes its way out of Jensen’s throat. “I think it’s too fluffy.”

For some strange reason, that’s what causes Jared to hug him. Not a back-slapping man-hug with minimal contact, but a full embrace, bodies coming together from shoulder to knees. Arms wrapped all the way around one another as if there’s a chance one of them might slip away if the hold isn’t strong enough.

When Jared pulls back, Jensen's desire to kiss him is greater than anything he's felt in the past few years. Jared’s lips are parted and wet from running his tongue over them, a fucking invitation if he’s ever seen one. Before Jensen can close the distance, Jared steps out of his arms.

“We can’t,” he says with more conviction than Jensen would be able to muster. “Not until we’re all together.” He sighs and leans against the opposite counter. “And I need a little bit of time.”

“I get it,” Jensen says, gripping the countertop behind him so he doesn’t rush forward and take the kiss he’s been denied for so long. “Tahmoh and I already talked about it, but there's more I need to tell him.” He waits until Jared meets his gaze and adds, “Just promise you’ll be honest with what you want. This only works if you're ready to date us. If your answer’s no, that’s alright. We’ll go back to what we were before."

“You think we could?”

“I wouldn’t stop trying until we were okay with each other again,” Jensen vows. He means every single word.

“You and Tahmoh?”

Jensen thinks for a moment. Then he says, “I love him. I wouldn’t let him go anywhere if this didn’t work out.”

“You gonna see him tonight?”

Jensen nods. “He said he’d come over once he got back. It might be late, though.”

Jared shuffles his bare feet on the tile. “I know I have no right to ask this, but could you guys not...you know.”

“Have sex?” Jensen asks, surprised.

“Just until I get my head on straight about all this. I can’t stop you, but I thinking about it right now, I—”

Jensen reaches for Jared’s hand and squeezes. “You have every right to ask. If you say yes, it’s the three of us from now on. Okay?”

They both let out a breath at the same time, Jared’s smile transforming his face into the beautiful, dimpled expression he knows so well. 

It feels strange to leave after that with nothing settled. Jared looks like he needs to sit down and Jensen wants to respect his request. He doesn’t let go of Jared’s hand until they’re at the front door, though, long fingers slipping out of Jensen’s grasp just before the door shuts.

Despite what he told Jared, he might need that beer when he gets home after all.

**~~~~~**

Jensen hears the _thunk-click_ of his front door being locked. He listens to Tahmoh's weary footsteps trudging up the stairs, down the hallway, until he steps into Jensen's bedroom.

"Hey..." Jensen says through a yawn, setting his iPad on the nightstand. 

But Tahmoh doesn't stop moving forward until he's on the bed with Jensen, strong hands pulling him into a kiss. Tahmoh always kisses Jensen when he comes over, but this is less of a greeting, more of a claim. Unforgiving pressure until Jensen's mouth yields, lips wide for their tongues to meet. Hands raking through Jensen's mussed hair, nails harsh against his scalp. 

Only when Jensen's mouth has been thoroughly and deliciously ravished, does Tahmoh say, "I got your message."

Right, that. "At least you actually listened to this one."

"Well who says something like that over voicemail, huh?" Tahmoh's sleepy smile is a comforting sight. "You love me."

"Don't get weird about it," Jensen says. Tahmoh leans in to kiss the smirk off his lips. Jensen could easily lie there and kiss Tahmoh all night, listening to him whisper his own admissions of love against his cheek. He has to work in the morning, though, and he can't forget the promise he made Jared. His hands push until Tahmoh is rolling off the bed.

"How was the drive back?"

"Long but quiet. The kids slept the whole time." Tahmoh pulls shorts from one of the drawers he's claimed in Jensen's dresser. After glancing back at the bed, he grabs a fresh undershirt, too. "You didn't have to stay up," he adds, stepping into the bathroom.

Jensen waits until he comes out to say, "I don't think I could've fallen asleep." Another yawn betrays his words, but Jensen won't give in to sleep.

Once Tahmoh is lying beside him, Jensen tells him about going to Jared's apartment. "I had to do it," he says. "Once I told you how I felt, I realized I felt the same way about him, too. I had to see him, otherwise I would've gone out of my mind waiting for you to get home."

Tahmoh says, "I wish I could've been there."

"Actually I think it was better that it was just me," Jensen explains. "I'm pretty sure there's a part of Jared that's still intimidated by you."

Revisiting the scene in his mind, Jensen tells Tahmoh how he nearly fucked everything up. Tahmoh reaches for his hand, wide fingers fitting in between Jensen's. When he comes to the part about letting Jared know how he felt, Jensen says, "You need to talk to Jared, too. Those feelings are between you guys. I couldn't take that opportunity away."

Emotion must strike Tahmoh deep. He barely whispers when he thanks Jensen. 

"Jared thought about this, you know." They've come to the most important part of the story. Tahmoh's eyes are shining when Jensen tells him about the guilt Jared carried thinking he was alone in his desires. "I told him we were willing to try, but he just needs a little time."

When he mentions Jared's last request, Tahmoh groans, tucking his head against Jensen's shoulder. "I hope he doesn't need too much time."

Jensen shuts his eyes, one hand stroking Tahmoh's back. They slide down until they're face to face, only a foot of space between their pillows. Jensen's fingers trace the faint dusting of freckles across Tahmoh's forehead.

"I'm glad you're here right now," Tahmoh says quietly. "You could've stayed with Jared, but I don't want to let you go yet."

"You won't have to," Jensen offers, but he understands the meaning. Everything is going to change. 

"I love you, Jen."

Jensen shifts so that he's pressed against Tahmoh's chest. There's a flutter behind his ribs, a small pang that begins to throb the longer they lie there in silence. Jensen tries to ignore the feeling; he recognizes the hurt for what it is. He's been the victim of a break up many times in his life. No matter how deep his feelings ran, or how badly he'd been hurt, Jensen always felt sad when he thought of what could have been. The pain in his chest comes from mourning the loss of a relationship. After tonight, there will no longer be a _them_.

"Would it have worked out in the long run if it was just you and me?" Jensen isn't sure why he's speculating out loud, but he feels like he can ask Tahmoh anything.

"I'd like to think so," Tahmoh says from his ever kind heart. 

Maybe the two of them would've been happy if Jared never started pulling away. If he never had feelings for Jensen beyond platonic soulmates. Now that true feelings have been exposed, Jensen could never leave Jared out in the cold. Just as he knows he wouldn't be able to survive seeing Jared and Tahmoh happy without him, and he can't imagine causing Tahmoh pain by leaving him for Jared. 

There is no going back. And if what lies ahead is better than what Jensen has now, he can't wait to live it.

**~~~~~**

Jensen likes to claim that he's a patient man, but surviving the next few days is a test for which he isn't prepared.

Tahmoh has Monday off to recuperate from the exhausting weekend. Jensen leaves him at the house for a few extra hours of sleep before he heads back to his place. They agreed that it would be easier for Tahmoh to spend nights at home until Jared's ready for more, lest temptation get the better of them. 

At Hallgrove, Jensen doesn't see Jared until they pass one another for separate lunch shifts in the atrium. Jared grins when he picks Jensen out of the crowd of students rushing towards the tables, though they don't have a chance to stop and talk. Still, the memory of Jared's smile is enough to carry Jensen through the rest of the day without panicking. 

Jared shows up in Jensen’s classroom after the final bell. Unlike Jensen, it looks like he got a good night’s sleep—there’s color in his cheeks and lightness to his steps. 

Jensen doesn’t know where to begin. “Do you want to hang out tonight?” he asks, figuring that the three of them should get together at some point. “Moh and I were gonna order pizza. He hasn’t had it in months and he’s a little bit cranky for cheese right now.”

Throughout Jensen’s rambling, Jared watches him with a tender expression.

“I wish I could,” Jared says. “Dylan Milner’s parents are taking me to dinner as a thank you for the recommendation I wrote to Georgetown.”

“Lucky you,” Jensen mutters. Dylan is one of Jared’s favorite students as well as the head of the Hallgrove book club that Jared moderates.

“They’re taking me to Thyme, so I’m not complaining.”

“What about tomorrow?” Jensen asks, making sure he has everything he needs in his bag to take home. “Do you have plans?”

Jared stands on the other side of the desk, the shift of his hips drawing Jensen’s gaze to the particularly tight fit of his pants today. He swallows.

“I need to hit the gym,” Jared says, “I’ve been off my routine for way too long.”

Jensen frowns. 

“Hey…” Jared leans forward, palms spread wide on Jensen’s desk. “Don’t worry, okay? I actually texted Moh and asked him to go with me. He and I haven’t gotten a chance to talk yet.”

“Oh yeah, that’s—that makes a lot of sense,” Jensen says.

“What if we hung out after? Head to Jamie’s bar or something?”

For once, Jensen’s grateful he’s not the one making the plans. Jared’s mood gets brighter when Jensen agrees, and he launches into a rundown of his comparative lit class’ final presentations that has Jensen laughing in sympathy.

Neither one of them mention Jared’s decision.

It’s the same on Tuesday. He only sees Jared in passing between classes, and there’s too much going on at Hallgrove during the last two weeks of the semester for them to talk about anything else. Tahmoh texts Jensen during lunch to say that he and Jared ought to be at Jamie’s by 9:00. Last night, after eating half a roasted vegetable pizza (though he still wouldn’t touch Jensen’s classic Italian meat lover’s pizza) and rolling on the couch like a happy cat, Tahmoh told Jensen he was looking forward to hitting the gym with Jared.

“He just wants to make sure I’m as good with this as you told him I was,” Tahmoh said. “The last time he and I talked on our own, this wasn’t even a possibility.”

“Not one we said out loud,” Jensen pointed out. “We were thinking it.”

Still, Jensen’s nervous. While Tahmoh and Jared are at the gym, he takes refuge at Troubadour’s with a cup of cafe mocha and enough work to keep him occupied for the next few hours and pretends not to think about Jared and Tahmoh working up a sweat. Together. Probably with their shirts off. _Fuck_. He waits for a text from either one, but his phone is annoyingly silent until just after 8:30 when Jared lets him know they’re leaving the gym.

They’re already at the bar when Jensen arrives, three of Jamie’s organic pressed-fruit drinks set in front of them.

“We ordered for you,” Tahmoh says, pulling Jensen into his arms. They don’t even think—the move is natural—but they both freeze and look at Jared. Nothing to worry about there, though. Jared’s looking at them fondly, shaking his head.

“You’re such idiots,” Jared mutters and then Jensen’s hugging him, too.

With their feelings out in the open, there’s no reason for any of them to get drunk. Jensen enjoys the company, thanks Jamie when he brings them a plate of house-made bruschetta. 

“Compliments of the owner,” Jamie says with a wink. Jensen would guess that Tahmoh’s old friend has an idea about what’s going on between the three of them. Even that small show of support means a lot. Jensen’s been too focused on getting the relationship to this point to worry about what other people are going to think. Seems they have one ally, at least.

Jared is relaxed, no longer frantic with that restless energy that Jensen’s seen too often since grad school. Jensen and Tahmoh are the perfect buffers; together they settle him. Jensen doesn’t think he would’ve been able to do that on his own.

“Gonna tell me what happened at the gym?” Jensen asks while they’re sipping their second round of specialty cocktails.

Jared and Tahmoh look at one another. “Jared set a new personal record for his vertical jump.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“We’re all good, Jen,” Jared says. Jensen feels his hand settle at the small of his back and he leans into it. “Moh and I talked. I still felt guilty—”

“And I told him he needed to let that go,” Tahmoh adds, reaching across the bar to nudge Jared’s hand. “You didn’t break us up, Jared. You helped get us here.”

Jensen feels the weight of Tahmoh’s words and he looks over at Jared. “Does this mean you’re in?”

Jared smiles at both of them. “I am if you are,” he says, and Jensen feels like he could light the room up with the strength of his happiness.

“I don’t know what I’m ready for,” Jared admits, turning his hand so that his fingers brush Tahmoh’s. Jensen suddenly has a hard time breathing; the sight is simple but so beautiful, and he wants to preserve it in his memory. “I still can’t believe we’re gonna do this.”

“Feels kinda surreal, doesn’t it?”

Six months ago (or a year, or ten years), if someone told Jensen that he’d be in a relationship with his best friend and an Olympian, Jensen would have laughed that person straight out of the room. Now, it may seem surreal, but that doesn’t mean it’s not going to be the best thing that's ever happened to him. 

There and then, Jensen wants to take both men home with him, desperate to know how good they’ll be together. If he takes what he’s done with Tahmoh and multiplies it by Jared, he’s fairly sure the answer is too hot to calculate. Jensen would respect his decision, though, if Jared said he wasn't ready yet. He just prays they’ll be able to do something soon. Jensen hasn’t even kissed Jared yet. How wrong is that?

On Wednesday, Jared’s brother has a long layover in town, so Jared takes him out to dinner. Tahmoh ends up at Jensen’s house where they sit on the couch clicking through all the press coverage from the State Championships that Tahmoh has bookmarked on his tablet. Jensen ignores his work in favor of poking Tahmoh’s ticklish ribs every time he’s mentioned in an article.

Jared keeps them updated via a group text, even sending ridiculous selfies of him and Jeff from the obnoxiously colorful taco restaurant.

“Think he’ll tell Jeff about us?”

“He might,” Jensen says. “Jeff’s really open-minded.”

“Have you told your family?”

Jensen shakes his head. “Not because I don’t want to. I know they love Jared, and they really like you, so I’m not worried. I just want to have this to myself for a while, you know? We’ve dealt with so much already.”

Tahmoh is quiet, but he nods.

The next night, Tahmoh, Felicia, and the rest of the coaching staff are required to be at Calhoun’s Spring Athletic Banquet. Jensen promised his sister that he’d Skype with her in order to help her pick out colors and motifs for his first niece or nephew’s nursery. (He’s secretly hoping for a niece.) He doesn’t think Mack needs his opinion, it’s just a great way to catch up and share in the process. Jared’s at Troubadour’s having his own grading session fueled by caffeine, and he texts photos of other patrons—mostly college students cramming for finals—who’ve fallen asleep in their chairs.

On Friday, Felicia invites all three of them to her house for an end-of-the-season dinner party that ends up being a pizza, wings, and cheesy-bread party when the majority of her food burns in the oven. Thanks to plenty of beer and wine, no one has a bad time.

Except for Jensen who wants to _cry_. Looking over at Tahmoh’s firm jaw and hungry gaze, he feels the same way.

Jared is _killing_ them. He flirts like a man on a mission: teasing hands catching Tahmoh and Jensen unawares, wicked eyes beckoning them closer, parted lips skimming over Tahmoh’s cheek when he leans in to say something. Jensen is one ‘accidental’ brush of hips away from pinning Jared to the wall in Felicia’s living room and just having him in front of dozens of people. Tahmoh’s hand on his forearm is the only restraint that stops him.

“I know,” Tahmoh whispers in his ear, “it’s killing me, too. Maybe this is payback for all the times he had to watch us.”

Jensen can’t deal with Tahmoh being so close. His body is primed and eager—he hasn’t had sex in over a week, the longest he’s gone since he and Tahmoh made their relationship official, and he misses the intimacy. The skin-on-skin and the hot, slick meeting of mouths. He misses the tastes, the sights, the fucking sounds.

Jared works his way back over towards them with a smile on his face and wastes no time grabbing them both by the hand and dragging them onto the back patio where Felicia’s girlfriend has a good size blaze going in the fire-pit. It’s a warm night, but the heat feels good on Jensen’s face; it distracts him from the inferno racing through his blood at holding Jared’s hand in front of everyone.

Then he sees why Jared is excited.

“You brought me out here for s’mores?”

“Just like grad school,” Jared says, reminding Jensen of how they’d roast marshmallows in the little fire pit dug into the community yard behind their building, folding themselves into cheap lawn chairs and building s’mores with stale graham crackers and off-brand chocolate. Still, they were delicious.

Felicia passes out sticks and marshmallows, leaving the rest of the ingredients on the patio table. Jared roasts three at a time while Jensen and Tahmoh grab crackers and chocolate.

The first one is perfectly constructed, chocolate already starting to melt when Jared hands the s’more to Tahmoh. The next one is a little scorched but Jensen takes it anyway. Jared’s is roasted all the way around, but his graham crackers start crumbling when he tries to squish all the layers together. He pouts as part of his s’more falls on the grass, and Jensen laughs. Beside him, Tahmoh is grinning at them, one arm around Jensen’s waist.

Jared’s expression ripples dangerously before he moves faster than Jensen anticipates, warm marshmallow hitting Jensen square on the mouth. Jared’s fingers wipe chocolate and sticky, warm white sugar all over Jensen’s lips to the sound of nearly everyone around them laughing, cell phone cameras clicking and flashing. Even Tahmoh betrays him, one of those robust laughs Jensen loves so much coming at his expense.

“You’re so dead,” Jensen groans as he carefully pulls pieces of graham cracker away from his face. He looks up, ready to retaliate, but Jared is fucking beaming, his eyes fixed on Jensen and Tahmoh like there’s no one else in the world that would make him happier.

And then Jared leans in to kiss the mess away, lips touching the corner of Jensen’s mouth as he gathers the sugary sweetness on his tongue, melted chocolate licked away. He can hear Felicia and the others continuing to laugh. Jensen’s mood has downshifted from amused to no-holds-barred aroused.

This could be a serious problem. Behind him, Tahmoh gasps, and Jensen freezes. If he moves, Felicia’s guests are going to get a show they didn’t sign up for.

Jared leans back and licks his lips. His eyes give him away; he knew exactly how to wind Jensen up. 

“I think it’s time to go.” That’s Tahmoh’s voice cutting through the haze. They’re no longer the center of attention as people return to roasting their s’mores and enjoying themselves. 

Jared tilts his head down towards Jensen. Another few inches and they’d be kissing for real, something every impulse in his body is screaming for him to do. “Yeah, we better get out of here,” he says. “Your place?”

Jensen doesn’t have it in him to do more than nod. Fortunately Tahmoh has his wits about him, pushing them through the house and out the front door.

Apparently the wait is over.

**~~~~~**

Jared and Jensen get to the house first. After walking them to their cars, Tahmoh stayed to say goodbye to Felicia, promising he would be right behind them. In this moment it’s only Jared facing Jensen in the front hallway, every second ticking by like it’s Jensen's heartbeat.

“I wasn’t thinking when I kissed you,” Jared says, quiet though there’s no one to overhear. “I was just so happy, and then I remembered that I could…”

Jensen reaches up, squeezes Jared’s shoulder. “You sure you’re ready?”

“If we wait any longer, I’m gonna go insane.”

Jensen smirks; he knows the feeling. They hear Tahmoh walking in through the open garage, breaths coming at a rapid pace when he finds them in the hall. His face is flushed, chest rising with heavy breaths.

“That was one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen,” he says, curling one hand around the back of Jensen’s neck. “You’ve never done that before?” Keeping his eyes on Jared, Jensen shakes his head. Tahmoh moans. “You must be going crazy right now. Don’t let me stop you.”

Knowing Tahmoh is watching and wanting raises the temperature when Jared pushes Jensen against the wall, mouths falling together without hesitation. Jensen opens for Jared, his lips firm and needy. Jensen’s body tingles when Jared’s tongue slips alongside his. Whatever he'd imagined in the past, the reality of kissing Jared is so much more intense. Jensen takes every flick of Jared's tongue, each desperate whimper he can't hold back, and returns it all in kind. The wall is hard at his back but Jared’s chest is equally solid at his front, the weight increasing like he’s trying to get as close to Jensen as possible.

Jensen feels Tahmoh’s hand on his hip keeping them all connected. He would reach out, but Jared has him captive in the kiss, palms on either side of Jensen’s face. Eventually his lungs scream out for more air than he’s getting, forcing them apart. Jared drops his forehead against Jensen’s, panting hard. Jensen watches him lick those stupidly pretty, pink lips and craves more.

Tahmoh’s voice banks the fire. “We should move upstairs.”

“Definitely,” Jared says, voice ragged. Christ, Jensen’s mouth did that to him, and he intends on doing so much more.

Jensen’s brain disregards insignificant details like how they get upstairs. In a flash, they’re in the bedroom waiting for the next move.

“There are no rules for this,” Tahmoh says, maneuvering all three of them closer to the bed. “We’ll figure it out as we go. We just need to be honest with each other. If anything changes—”

“I can’t see that happening,” Jared says. “I swear I’ll tell you both if it does.”

They turn to Jensen and he adds his own promise. With that out of the way, Tahmoh relaxes. Jensen loves him for trying to keep a level-head, but he’s too eager to stop again.

“I used to dread going to the gym with both of you,” Tahmoh says. “Watching Jared help you through a set, touching you… I’d get so turned on, I needed to hit the showers in the middle of a workout.”

Jared huffs. “Seriously? I had to see you guys making out whenever someone stared at Tahmoh for too long.” He nudges Jensen. “You were claiming your territory. I can’t blame you.”

“You were allowed to look,” Jensen says, and Jared shudders. “What about me? Both of you trained like it was a fucking gladiator boot camp.” Jared and Tahmoh feign innocence, but Jensen’s not fooled. “You were showing off on purpose. You liked the attention.”

Jared shrugs. “You’re allowed to look, too.”

Jensen has a terrible feeling he’s just given them ammunition.

Trading a look, Jared and Tahmoh begin to strip, taunting Jensen with their gym-sculpted bodies, shirts gone to reveal each toned muscle from their shoulders to their hips. It gets worse when Tahmoh steps into Jared’s arms and drags his mouth across Jared’s cheek, sliding down to set his teeth along Jared’s jaw, eyes flicking in Jensen's direction. Now Jensen understands what Tahmoh must’ve felt seeing him kiss Jared downstairs. If this was porn, they'd make millions. When Tahmoh reaches Jared’s lips, it’s almost too hot for his brain to endure. Jensen can’t look away.

He’s controlled himself up to this point—Jensen’s only half-hard in his pants. That control shatters as soon as Jared fits his hands low on Tahmoh’s hips, that beautiful stretch of skin over muscle and bone at which Jensen has worshipped so often. He wants to wrap himself around them, get between them—anything to feel them against him at the same time.

What started as a gentle yet provocative kiss escalates until Tahmoh is biting at Jared’s lips while Jared slots their hips together, bodies grinding instinctually. 

“What do you want me to do?” Jared asks when his mouth is freed.

“That’s not how this works,” Tahmoh reminds him.

“You’ve been together,” Jared says, “you know what you’re doing.”

Jensen steps behind Jared, fingers skimming across his shoulder blades. Acres of new skin to explore. He thought he knew where all of Jared's moles were, but he lightly drags his fingers around one set just to the left of Jared's spine that he's never seen. His heart cries out when he realizes that some random guy might've gotten to see them all before Jensen. Someone completely unworthy of him.

"How far have you gone with a guy?” Jensen asks with difficulty.

Jared’s shoulders tense under Jensen’s hands. On the other side of his body, Tahmoh is quiet, but his gaze is encouraging.

“Mostly blowjobs. Receiving, I mean. I don’t think I’m ready to try giving one,” Jared says. “Guys at the Hill wanted to jerk me off, too.”

Tahmoh asks the question Jensen cannot. “Have you fucked a guy?”

“Twice.”

Jensen digs his fingers into Jared’s back but he quickly retreats, stroking the red skin in apology.

“What about the other way around?” Tahmoh asks.

“Never. I’m not sure… I never wanted that. Not with those guys, anyway. Maybe with one of you.”

“Only if you want it, too,” Jensen insists. Just because he and Tahmoh are flexible doesn’t mean they expect the same of Jared. If the day comes with Jared _does_ want it… Jensen’s knees threaten to buckle at the thought.

“Just think about tonight,” Tahmoh says. “What do you want right now?”

Jared reaches back, finds one of Jensen’s hands and guides it around to the front of his body. Fingers allowed to map the grooves between his abs, trace the rim of his navel. Heart thumping wildly, Jensen lets him press his hand over his cock, a moment he wove fantasies around when they first met.

“Been dreaming about your mouth for months.” Jared groans, flexing his hips so Jensen can palm the full shape of his cock.

“Fuck,” Tahmoh curses. “I want to see that.”

Jensen can’t even respond, he wants this so much.

Ditching their shoes, Jensen pulls off his shirt and pushes Jared down onto the bed. Tahmoh climbs on next to him, arranging Jared until he's reclining against the pillows, and helping him to work off his pants. While Tahmoh's stripping out of his own jeans, Jensen reaches for Jared’s boxers, savoring the moment, committing details to memory as Jared’s cock is revealed. A dark treasure trail cuts down below his navel, the canyon around his hips only slightly more rounded than Tahmoh’s. His cock is _inspiring_. Jensen knew his shape when soft through boxers and flannel pants, but he’s never seen Jared erect and pulsing like this. At first glance he’s longer than either of them, slightly curved to the left. A wide, smooth head that Tahmoh is going to love if Jared ends up fucking him. Based on Tahmoh’s long, ragged moan, he’s measuring it in his mind, too.

“You’ve been safe?” Jensen asks, crawling onto the bed.

“Every time,” Jared swears. “You know me, Jen. I was messed up, but I wasn’t stupid.”

Tahmoh leans over Jared, kissing his temple. “He wasn’t saying that. You have every right to ask us, too. We got tested together,” he explains, “but we still use condoms when we fuck.”

“I got tested a couple weeks ago,” Jared says once he calms, “and I haven’t been with anyone in over a month.”

“Good,” Jensen cuts in, “because I want to taste you.”

His lips follow along the juncture between Jared’s thigh and his groin, teasing with puffs of warm breath. Jared smells amazing beneath the hint of cologne left over from the party. Warm and rich, a complex musk that’s different from Tahmoh’s but still delicious. Jensen intends to seek it out all over his body when he has the patience. 

The head of Jared’s cock sits perfectly on his tongue, girth stretching his lips comfortably. Jared’s moan comes from deep behind his ribs, but Tahmoh’s mouth is there to catch it. Jensen is tempted to watch them kiss and stroke one another, but Jared’s cock is thick with blood, desperate for Jensen’s attentions.

“He loves it,” Jensen hears Tahmoh whisper to Jared, and he’s right. With others it was routine, perfunctory and quick. He would give Tahmoh and Jared anything they asked for. Everything. And he’ll take just as much in return, riding the thrust of Jared’s hips without choking.

“It’s never felt like this,” Jared mutters, the hand that’s not touching Tahmoh falling to the back of Jensen’s neck. Jensen allows Jared to hold him down over his cock, works his tongue frantically beneath the crown until Jared’s shaking apart beneath him. His blood races when he imagines how demanding Jared could be in their bed when he's more comfortable.

Jensen swallows Jared’s come at the same time Tahmoh steals the raw cry from his lips. Tahmoh is there when Jensen rises to his knees, mouth open to share Jared’s taste between them. Even when the last trace is gone, Jensen doesn’t let Tahmoh pull away. He grabs Tahmoh by the ass, hands kneading into the thick muscle, and rocks them together until he’s burning up with the need to come.

“ _Holy shit_ ,” Jared groans. “This is so fucking hot.”

Jensen rips his mouth away from Tahmoh’s to beg. “Touch me, please. Jay…”

Jared sits up, mussed hair falling over his forehead. Jensen reaches for him, relieved when Jared comes willingly. It subdues the small part of him that was still afraid Jared would reconsider after sex. 

Jared slots himself against Jensen’s back in a mirror of their earlier position. “I don’t want to do the wrong thing.”

“Do what feels good,” Tahmoh says before Jensen can tell Jared that nothing he does could ever be wrong.

Jared’s growled response races down Jensen’s spine and he feels the blunt pressure of teeth on the back of his neck. He’s discovered a weakness not even Tahmoh has learned to exploit. Thighs quivering, cock dripping where it’s still unfairly confined in his boxer-briefs, Jensen does his damnedest not to melt as Jared nips and kisses the side of his neck. When Jared’s mouth sucks sensitive skin where neck meets shoulder, Jensen's spine snaps. He arches between Jared and Tahmoh, locked in pleasure and trapped by four hands and two mouths taking advantage. Jensen hisses, beyond words as Jared’s teeth scrape the underside of his jaw.

Tahmoh is watching, mouth slack and lips swollen. His fingers circle Jensen’s nipple, each light twist sending a pulse of pure heat down to his cock. Finally Jared ends his torment, hands shoving Jensen’s underwear down far enough to grab his erection.

“Does this feel okay?” Jared asks. Jensen twists his head around, seeking Jared’s lips, biting and demanding as the rhythm of Jared’s hand on his cock gathers speed. He has no reason to be self-conscious—his grip is warm and steady, palm wide enough to satisfy. Tahmoh does them a favor when he grabs the lube, adding enough to create an ideal amount of friction. He doesn’t lend a hand to Jared though, choosing instead to rub his still-covered cock against Jensen’s thigh and tease his nipples with clever fingers.

Jensen turns from Jared’s mouth and finds Tahmoh’s waiting for him. He wants to lose sense and time. Wants to hold and be held and stay away from the world for as long as possible. Jensen used to crave sex only for the pleasure it brought; Tahmoh changed that. Jensen desires the connection above anything else, and now he has it with more than one person. He’s exactly where he wants to be—between them, no longer alone. 

He gasps as Jared’s strokes become rougher. “Oh _fuck_ , Jay. Just like that.” They’re both rutting against him. Jared’s cock surging with renewed arousal against his ass at the same time Tahmoh’s full length grinds against his leg.

It might be the press of two cocks—who knew that would turn his crank so hard?—or the dual assault of Jared’s hand and Tahmoh’s fingers, but Jensen dives blindly into his climax, coming with a tattered cry. Jared’s grip on his cock is sticky and slow, massaging him through the aftershocks while Tahmoh holds him steady.

The wet sound of tongues meeting enlightens Jensen to the fact that Tahmoh and Jared are kissing over his shoulder. He sees the effortless way their mouths come together in high definition, Jared’s teeth catching on Tahmoh’s bottom lip and tugging. With shaky fingers, Jensen pulls Tahmoh’s boxer-briefs over his blood-heavy cock, knees shifting on the bed until their underwear joins Jared’s on the floor.

“I know what you want,” Jensen says to Tahmoh, pushing him away with little finesse until he falls on his back. Tahmoh’s legs open for him, lending weight to his words. 

Jared can only stare while Jensen grabs a condom and the lube and begins fingering Tahmoh, broken gasps and pleas filling the room. When Tahmoh’s begging dissolves into incoherent sounds, Jensen looks back at Jared and holds out his hand.

Jared's pupils flare, black swallowing the green of his eyes. “You want me to fuck him?”

“Trust me,” Jensen says, cupping his face, “he wants you to fuck him, too." If Jared says no, Jensen is ready and willing to keep fingering Tahmoh until he’s a sweaty mess and coming apart under his touch.

Jared shakes himself out of his stupor and nods. Tahmoh arranges himself on his hands and knees while Jensen slips the condom over Jared’s cock and lubes him up. Then he sits beside them and watches, a wave of pure lust rolling through him when Jared presses inside.

Nothing could have prepared Jensen for how beautiful they are together: Tahmoh’s big body arching back while Jared’s hand grip him mercilessly by the hips. The rhythm isn’t perfect—Jared suffers a few false starts before he finds an angle that has Tahmoh tearing the sheets—but it’s fucking gorgeous to watch, and Tahmoh is too delirious to care. Jensen imagines himself in Tahmoh’s place, bucking back to fill himself with Jared’s cock. He’d love to ride Jared, in control of the rhythm and the depth. Or the other way around, fucking Jared for the first time, drawing it out so Jared knows nothing but pleasure.

Tahmoh reaches his limit before Jared’s stamina is drained. “Jen, please…” he begs quietly, muscles lacking the strength to stroke himself off. He finds his release at Jensen’s hand, chest dropping to the bed.

Jared pulls out carefully, chest heaving. He rips off the condom, but Jensen is there before he can wrap his own hand around his cock. With Tahmoh's come staining his fingers, Jensen pulls and twists, absorbing the heat through his palm. Knowing that Jared's cock was just inside Tahmoh lends intensity to his strokes, and he doesn’t let up until Jared comes for the second time.

Once their legs are steady enough, they each take a turn in the bathroom before returning to the bed to lie in a pile of sweaty bliss. Jensen revels in the heat and the feel of so much bare skin. (Jensen is anticipating another round, and clothes would just get in the way.) 

Between them, Jared sighs contentedly. “If sex is this good now…”

“Jesus, we’re all gonna die,” Jensen laughs. 

“Death by too much sex,” Tahmoh adds. “Not a bad way to go.”

There’s barely enough room for all three of them on Jensen’s bed. No one offers to move. This is merely a respite; Jensen suspects they’ll barely leave the bedroom all weekend except for nourishment. Even if they don’t have sex, Jensen can’t imagine wanting to be anywhere else.

After a few minutes of naked, indulgent cuddling, Jared says, “I didn’t think we’d get here.”

Tahmoh makes a sleepy sound of disagreement and Jensen asks, “Did you picture this happening when you set us up on that blind date?”

Beneath Jensen’s head, Jared’s laugh rolls through his chest. “Not in a million years. I just wanted you guys to be happy.”

“We were,” Tahmoh mutters, clearly the most exhausted of the three. He doesn’t even open his eyes. “But we’re happier now.”

Jared turns his face towards Jensen. “Yeah?”

Jensen kisses his chest. “Definitely.” He feels himself being pulled under, eyelids getting heavy. The three of them shift and roll until they find a comfortable arrangement of arms and legs—it might take time to figure how they best fit together. Jensen’s looking forward to it, along with discovering who they _are_ with each other, and who they'll become. No matter how long it takes, Jensen has a feeling it’s going to be an amazing journey.

Jensen already knows two things for certain. One, he loves these two men more than he ever thought possible, and two, he definitely needs to buy a bigger bed.

### EPILOGUE  
TWO MONTHS LATER

Jensen has no reason to watch porn anymore. What’s the point when real-life scenes like this play out right in front of him?

Jared and Tahmoh are dancing lightly around one another in the middle of the ring, their thickly wrapped hands raised as they advance and swipe at one another. Both men are wearing shorts to show off their toned legs—Jared’s are leaner, and Tahmoh’s might never lose the definition gained during years of grueling workouts—and t-shirts that bear the sweat of their high intensity workouts. In other words, they’re perfectly dressed to torture Jensen.

Their gym had added training rings like this for boxing and mixed martial arts use almost a month ago, and Jensen’s boyfriends have been taking full advantage ever since.

 _Boyfriends_. The word sounds better than Jensen thought it could. Changing one letter made all the difference.

“Come on, Jay,” Tahmoh laughs when Jared tries and fails to grab him by the shoulder, “I don’t have all day.”

Back when they were first dating, Jensen learned how Tahmoh trained in muay thai during his days on the Canadian National Swim Team as a way to stay fit when he wasn’t in the pool. Once Jared made the same discovery, he was eager to put his own rusty martial arts skills from high school to the test. Jensen has a feeling Tahmoh’s taking it easy on their boyfriend. Watching them spar—dodging and ducking, grappling and groping—does things to Jensen. He literally _swells_ with pride, a fact he tries to hide by squeezing his legs together while he sits on the bench. Somehow, he doesn’t think his interest goes unnoticed by the men in the ring.

“Sure you don’t want to jump in here, Jen?” Jared asks, jumping out of the way when Tahmoh tries to kick his legs out from under him. “It’s a good way to get your heart-rate up.”

“Trust me, I’m good,” Jensen calls back. He enjoys watching, but as far as exercise goes, he’ll stick to running and the occasional gym circuit. 

A few months ago, Jensen suffered a spell of self-consciousness when he compared his body to Jared and Tahmoh’s. They ate better than he did (with the exception of Jared’s candy addiction and Tahmoh’s tendency to sneak extra bites of cheese when he thought no one was looking) and they certainly spent more time at the gym. His boyfriends had quickly, and _thoroughly_ shown Jensen the error of his thoughts, spending hours worshiping his body and telling him everything they loved about it. Jared, in particular, loves his softer core. He’d kissed Jensen’s stomach over and over again until Jensen believed him. Tahmoh had watched, his hand warm and solid over Jensen’s belly, while Jared fucked all thoughts of inadequacy out of his system.

“What do I get when I kick your ass?” Jared asks breathlessly, managing to gain the upper hand over Tahmoh, who uses their positions to whisper something in his ear. Jared’s filthy smile, coupled with the way his eyes unerringly find Jensen’s, means he’s in for a treat tonight.

Over the last two months, Jared has gained confidence in bed. He holds his own now, often the most enthusiastic among the three of them. Though he’s still learning his likes and dislikes, it’s fascinating to watch his mind unlock hidden desires. Jensen and Tahmoh happily bear the burden of his self-discovery, whether it’s submitting to long, slow blowjobs when Jared finally admitted he wanted to try, or demonstrating to him that rimming really _did_ feel as good as everyone claimed.

With a move too fast for Jensen to decipher, Tahmoh flips Jared down onto his back and pins him there. The manner in which Jared arches and strains against Tahmoh’s hold is ridiculously obscene. Jensen can easily imagine the same scenario playing out in their bed. 

“Maybe you ought to be thinking about what I get when I win,” Tahmoh says, flashing a smile before letting Jared up. Jensen meets his heated gaze, licking his lips when he sees the way the sweat covers the back of Tahmoh’s neck.

Tahmoh completes them, absorbs the intensity when Jared and Jensen fall too hard into one another: a desperation born from years of unresolved sexual tension. He can’t always hide the faraway look in his eyes, or the way his touch borders on possessive when there’s no need. There’s a part of him that continues to be afraid that Jared and Jensen don’t need him, just like Jensen knows that Tahmoh would walk away if they told him to.

Jared and Jensen would rather see the sky fall.

The longer the fight goes on, the more impatient Jensen becomes. He checks his phone for the tenth time, eager to get home and break in the new bed they bought. It was delivered to Jensen’s house yesterday, the obvious choice because that’s where they spend most of their time; it’s where they came together and it’s where they want to stay. The three of them don’t live together yet—it’s too soon and they’re still not sure how they’d manage to explain the arrangement—but that has its advantages, too.

By keeping their own places for the time being, they’ve been able to _date_ in a way that wasn’t possible when their relationship began. Learning each other for who they are within the threesome brings new insights, fresh opportunities to fall in love all over again.

“We might need to call this one a draw,” Jensen hears Tahmoh say. “Looks like Jen’s about to ditch us.”

Jared approaches the edge of the ring, taking a deep breath. “He’s thinking about the new bed.”

“You’re not?” Tahmoh asks.

Jared shakes his head and smiles. “I was _trying_ not to.”

Jensen growls when he says, “Are you gonna stand there talking about it all night, or are you planning to hit the showers?”

Jared and Tahmoh help each other out of the ring. Jensen sighs and wills his body to control itself. Fat chance of that happening. He can practically _smell_ the sweat and the arousal pouring off of his boyfriends.

“Showers, definitely,” Tahmoh says, clearly picking up on Jensen’s need.

“Just a quick one,” Jared adds.

Then they’re brushing past Jensen on their way to the locker room, reaching out as they pass. Tahmoh’s fingers slide over Jensen’s wrist; Jared’s hand drags lightly over Jensen’s stomach. Hardly enough to satisfy, but Jensen has learned to be patient. 

With these two men, he knows they’re worth the wait.

 

**FIN.**


End file.
